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BEAUTIES 



SHAKSPEARE. 










PORTRAIT OF WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, 

Drawn from the Bust in Stratford Church. 






BEAUTIES 

OF 

SHAKSPEARE, 

REGULARLY 

SELECTED FROM EACH PLAY: 

WITH A 

©antral Ixitttx, 

DIGESTING THEM UNDER PROPER HEADS. 
BY THE LATE 

REV. W. DODD,LL.D. 



The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 

Doth glance from heav'n to earth, from earth to heav'n, 

And, as imagination bodies forth 

The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 

Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing 

A local habitation and a name. 

Midsummer- Night's Dream. 



CHIS WICK : 

PRINTED BY C. WHITTINGHAM ; 

FOR SHERWOOD, NEELY, AND JONES, 

PATERNOSTER-ROW, LONDON. 



1818. %^ 






Tv\k. , H-5j^ 



PREFACE. 



1 shall not attempt any laboured encomiums 
jn Shakspeare, or endeavour to set forth his 
perfections, at a time when such universal and 
just applause is paid him, and when every 
tongue is big with his boundless fame. He 
himself tells us, 

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 

To throw a perfume on the violet, 

To smooth the ice, or add another hue 

Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 

To seek the beauteous eye of heav'n to garnish, 

Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. 

And wasteful and ridiculous indeed it would 
be, to say any thing in his praise, when present- 
ing the world with such a collection of Beau- 
ties, as perhaps is no where else to be met with; 
and which, I may very safely affirm, cannot 
be equalled from the productions of any other 
single author, ancient or modern. There is 
scarcely a topic, common with other writers, 
on which he has not excelled them all : there are 



VI PREFACE. 

many nobly peculiar to himself, where he shines 
unrivalled, and, like the eagle, the properest 
emblem of his daring genius, he soars beyond 
the common reach, and gazes undazzled on the 
sun. His flights are sometimes so bold, that 
frigid criticism almost dares to disprove them ; 
and those narrow minds which are incapable 
of elevating their ideas to the sublimity of the 
author's, are desirous of bringing them down 
to a level with their own. Hence many fine 
passages have been condemned in Shakspeare, 
as rant, and fustian, intolerable bombast, and 
turgid nonsense, which, if read with the least 
glow of the same imagination that warmed the 
writer's bosom, would blaze in the robes of 
sublimity, and obtain the commendation of a 
Longinus. And, unless part of the same spi- 
rit that elevated the poet, elevate the reader 
too, he must not presume to talk of taste and 
elegance: he will prove a languid reader, an 
indifferent judge, and a far more indifferent 
critic and commentator. 

It is some time since I first proposed pub- 
lishing this collection, for Shakspeare was 
ever, of all modern authors, my chief favour- 
ite. During my relaxations from my more 
severe and necessary studies at college, I never 



PREFACE. VII 

omitted to read and indulge myself in the rap- 
turous flights of this delightful and sweetest 
child of fancy ; and when my imagination has 
been heated by the glowing ardour of his uncom- 
mon fire, I have never failed to lament, that his 
Beauties should be so obscured, and that 
he himself should be made a kind of stage, 
for bungling critics to show their clumsy 
activity upon. 

It was my first intention to have considered 
each play critically and regularly through all 
its parts ; but, as this w 7 ould have swelled the 
work beyond proper bounds, I was obliged to 
confine myself solely to a collection of his 
Poetical Beauties ; I doubt not, every 
reader will find so large a fund for observation, 
and so much excellent and refined morality, 
that he will prize the work as it deserves, and 
pay, with me, all due adoration to the manes 
of Shakspeare. 

Longinus* tells us, that the most infallible 
test of the true sublime, is the impression a per- 
formance makes upon our minds, when read 
or recited. * If,' says he, c a. person finds, that a 
performance transports not his soul, nor exalts 

* See Longinus on the Sublime, sect. 7. The transla- 
tion in the text is from the learned Mr. Smith. 



VH1 PREFACE. 

his thoughts; that it calls not up into his mind 
ideas more enlarged than the mere sounds of 
the words convey, but on attentive examination 
its dignity lessens and declines, he may con- 
clude, that whatever pierces no deeper than 
the ears, can never be the true sublime. That, 
on the contrary, is grand and lofty, which, the 
more we consider, the greater ideas we con- 
ceive of it; whose force we cannot possibly 
withstand ; which immediately sinks deep, and 
makes such impression on the mind as cannot 
be easily worn out or effaced : in a word, you 
may pronounce that sublime, beautiful, and 
genuine, which always pleases and takes equal- 
ly with all sorts of men. For wheij persons 
of different humours, ages, professions, and in- 
clinations, agree in the same joint approbation 
of any performance, then this union of assent, 
this combination of so many different judg- 
ments, stamps a high and an indisputable value 
on that performance which meets with such 
general applause/ This fine observation of 
Longinus is most remarkably verified in Shak- 
speare ; for all humours, ages, and inclinations, 
jointly proclaim their approbation and esteem 
of him. It will, I hope, be found true in 
most of the passages which are here collected 



PREFACE. IX 

from him: I say, most, because there are some 
which I am convinced will not stand this test: 
the old/ the grave, and the severe, will disap- 
prove, perhaps, the more soft, (and as they 
may call them) trifling love-tales, so elegantly 
breathed forth, and so emphatically extolled by 
the young, the gay, and the passionate ; while 
these will esteem as dull and languid, the sober 
saws of morality, and the home-felt observa- 
tions of experience. However, as it was my 
business to collect for readers of all tastes, and 
all complexions, let me desire none to dis- 
approve what hits not with their own humour, 
but to turn over the page, and they will surely 
find something acceptable and engaging. But 
1 have yet another apology to make, for some 
passages introduced merely on account of their 
peculiarity, which to some, possibly, will appear 
neither sublime nor beautiful, and yet deserve 
attention, as indicating the vast stretch, and 
sometimes particular turn of the poet's ima- 
gination. 

The Selection, such as it is, I recommend 
to the candour and benevolence of the world ; 
wishing every one that peruses it, may feel the 
satisfaction I have frequently felt in composing- 
it, and receive such instructions and advan- 
b 



X PREFACE. 

tages from it, as it is well calculated to im- 
part. For my own part, better and more 
important things henceforth demand my atten- 
tion, and I here, with no small pleasure, take 
leave of Shakspeare and the critics. As this 
work was begun and finished, before I en- 
tered upon the sacred function in which I am 
now happily employed, let me trust, this juve- 
nile performance will prove no objection, since 
graver, and some very eminent members of the 
church, have thought it no improper employ, 
to comment, explain, and publish the works of 
their own country poets. 

W. DODD. 



CONTENTS. 



Remarks on the Life and Writings of Sliak- 

speare , xi 

COMEDIES. 

All's Well that Ends Well 3 

As You Like It 9 

Comedy of Errors 22 

Love's Labour's Lost 25 

Measure for Measure 31 

Merchant of Venice 43 

Merry Wives of Windsor .-,. 56 

Midsummer Night's Dream... 59 

Much Ado about Nothing, 67 

Taming of the Shrew 73 

Tempest 76 

Twelfth Night 88 

Two Gentlemen of Verona 91 

Winter's Tale. , 98 

HISTORICAL PLAYS. 

King John Ill 

King Richard II 125 

King Henry IV. (Part L) 132 

King Henry IV. (Part II.) 142 



Xll CONTENTS. 

King Henry V 152 

King Henry VI. (Parti.) 163 

King Henry VI. (Part II.) 164 

King Henry VI. (Part III.) 169 

King Richard III 176 

King Henry VIII 186 

TRAGEDIES. 

Antony and Cleopatra 199 

Coriolanus 210 

Cymbeline 221 

Hamlet 236 

Julius Caesar 264 

King Lear 281 

Macbeth 297 

Othello , 314 

Romeo and Juliet , s 329 

Timon of Athens 347 

Titus Andronicus 358 

Troilus and Cressida 362 



REMARKS 

ON 

THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 

OP 

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 

BY 

JOHN BRITTON, Esq. F.S.A.* 



■ Soul of the age, 



The applause, delight, the wonder of the stage, 

My Shakspeare, arise! — " 

B. Jonson. 

" Heaven-born Genius acts from something superior to ruies, and 
antecedent to rules; and has a right of appeal to Nature herself." 

Mrs. Montagu. 



IT has been frequently and justly remarked that no 
department in the dignified and almost boundless circle of 
literature excites so much general interest as biography. 
Every man, who possesses an elevation of mind, evinces an 
eager and laudable curiosity to . ascertain the private 
habits and characters of those persons who have astonished 
the world by their exploits, or enlightened it by their 
genius and wisdom. The genealogy of their families, the 
events of their childhood, the nature of their education, 
their personal appearance, their manners, their habits, 
their friendships, their amusements, and even their foibles, 
constitute abundant subjects for literary investigation. 
Nor ought such inquiries to be rashly stigmatized as 
puerile, or neglected as unimportant. To judge of an 

* This original Essay was written in 1814, for WHITTINGHAM'S 
Cabinet Edition of SHAKSPE ARE'S PLAYS, in 7 vols, with 230 Wood 
Cuts, and was. REVISED and MUCH ENLARGED for a new Edition 
in March, 1818. It contains a list of 89 different works, which have 
been successively published on the writings of Shakspeare. 
b2 



xiv remIrks on the life and 

individual through the medium of his public actions only, 
is to estimate character by an artificial and deceptive 
light. 

Every species of literary composition ought to be de- 
voted to some useful end. The legitimate province of 
biography is to impart such information as may enlighten 
the understanding and ameliorate the heart. It is the 
author's duty to state every illustrative fact connected 
with the person whose life he portrays ; to rouse the 
ardent mind to emulation, by displaying such qualities as 
do honour to human nature, and to point out and reprove 
those failings which detract from the perfection of man. 
It is also his province to trace the progress of genius from 
the cradle to the grave, to observe the gradations of its 
developement, and to mark those peculiarities by which 
it is distinguished ; — those accidents by which it is attracted 
or repelled, incited or repressed. Were we enabled to 
compose such a memoir of Shakspeare, we should bequeath 
to posterity an inestimable treasure ; — we should unfold 
such a history of talent, as would be of the greatest im- 
portance to the philosopher and the critic ; at the same 
time that we exhibited a portrait of the most illustrious 
genius that ever adorned the intellectual world, we should 
display the most seductive example for the emulation of 
future authors. 

When we reflect on these circumstances, and consider 
the defective state of biographical knowledge in general, 
we cannot refrain from expressing the deepest regret that 
so few illustrious men have thought proper to bequeath to 
the world memoirs of their own lives. Such legacies, if 
more frequently bestowed, would be of incalculable bene- 
fit to society ; and would tend to prevent a vast deal of 
useless, because for the most part, uncertain and indefinite 
controversy. 

But if the want of faithful biography be a subject of 
ordinary lament, how greatly is it to be deplored when it 
regards men endowed with minds of the very highest 
order. Men who, like the comets of heaven, appear only 
at distant periods to attract the gaze of admiring nations, 
and to shed an unusual glory over the intellectual system. 

" Different minds 
Incline to different objects; one pursues 
The vast alone, the wonderful, the wild ; 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. XV 

Another sighs for harmony and grace, 

And gentlest beauty. Hence when lightning fires 

The arch of heaven, and thunders rock the ground, 

When furious whirlwinds rend the howling air, 

And ocean, groaning from his lowest bed, 

Heaves his tempestuous billows to the sky; 

Amid the mighty uproar, while below 

The nations tremble, Shakspeare looks abroad 

From some high cliff, superior, and enjoys 

The elemental war." Akenside. 

That Shakspeare was one of that class of men, who, 
in relation to the species, deserve to be termed prodigies 
of intelligence, must be acknowledged by all to whom 
nature and education have given the capacity of under- 
standing and appreciating his works. Not only does he 
stand unrivalled as a dramatic author, but in every quality 
of poetical composition he may challenge the most re- 
nowned competitor. His invention is certainly not equal- 
led by that of Homer ; and though he seldom attains the 
suavity and graceful majesty of Maro, he far excels that 
poet in striking imagery and in originality of personifica- 
tion. Even the genius of Milton, with all the aid which 
the sublimity of his subject afforded, is not more success- 
ful in its boldest flights than the wild and creative fancy 
of "our immortal bard." " If ever any author," says 
Pope, " deserved the name of an original, it was Shaks- 
peare. Homer himself drew not his art so immediately 
from the fountains of nature ; it proceeded through Egyp- 
tian strainers and channels, and came to him not without 
some tincture of learning, or some cast of the models of 
them before him. The poetry of Shakspeare was inspira- 
tion indeed ; he is not so much an imitator as an instru- 
ment of nature : and it is not so just to say that he speaks 
from her, as that she speaks through him." 

Ben Jonson correctly says, 

" He was not of an age, but for all time ; 
And all the Muses still were in their prime; 
Where, like Apollo, he came forth to warm 
Our ears, or, like Mercury, to charm." 

Whether his aim be to move the passions or to assuage 
their tumult, to excite pity or rouse indignation; whether 
he delineates scenes of terror or incidents of pleasure; 
iti fine, whether his object be to excite grief or joy, to 
aw r aken in the breast powerful emotions of anguish or 
mirth, he appears to be a perfect master of his inimitable 



XVI REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

art. Nor does he excel only in commanding and in- 
fluencing the passions, for in his reflections on men and 
manners, and on subjects of religion and philosophy, his 
sentiments are uniformly appropriate, and are delivered 
with a force of argument not unworthy of the most pro- 
found divine, or the most acute and discriminating moral- 
ist. The following lines, from his own plays, applied to 
the character of the King, in Henry the Fifth, are finely 
applicable to himself. 

" Hear him but reason in Divinity, 
And, all-admiring, with an inward wish, 
You would desire he had been made a prelate. 
Hear him debate of Commonwealth affairs, 
You'd say — it hath been all in all his study. 
List his discourse of War, and you shall hear 
A fearful battle rendered you in music. 
Turn him to any cause of Policy, 
The gordian knot of it will he unloose, 
Familiar as his garter : that when he speaks, 
The air, a charter'd libertine, is still, 
And the mute wonder lurketh in mens' ears, 
To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences." 

The dramatic writings of Shakspeare are numerous, and 
are distinguished for the great diversity of characters they 
include and portray. Some of his plays certainly acquired 
much popularity during his own life, and were also pub- 
lished by his contemporaries; yet he must have been re- 
gardless of posthumous fame, for he neither prepared any 
of them for the press, nor gave directions concerning their 
appropriation in his last will. No author was ever less an 
egotist than Shakspeare. Equally careless as to the praise 
or censure of critics and biographers, he either neglected 
to preserve, or destroyed all records, documents, and me- 
moranda, relating to his own life and writings. Hence 
the laudable curiosity of the present age is unrewarded 
by facts, and is held in continued and aggravated sus- 
pense, as to the peculiarities of his personal actions and 
pursuits. His writings have occasioned several volumes 
of comment. Several authors have also written conjec- 
tures and dissertations on his life ; but all have hitherto 
failed in their design to develope any essential bio- 
graphical facts. An extraordinary and astonishing de- 
gree of mystery envelopes his name ; and it is not with- 
out considerable difficulty and doubt that I have drawn 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. XVU 

up the following narrative, which has been derived from 
a careful examination of all preceding memoirs, aided 
by the intelligent communications of the historian of 
Stratford. 

Of Shakspeare's remote and immediate ancestors, 
scarcely any facts are recorded. Only one solitary docu- 
ment has been found to identify his reputed parents, and 
to display the condition of his father. This is a " grant, 
or confirmation of arms," dated 1599, by William Dethick 
and William Camden, officers of the Heralds' College, 
empowering John Shakspeare to impale the arms of Arden 
with his own. After the usual preamble it proceeds: — 
" Wherefore being solicited, and by credible report in- 
formed, that John Shakspeare, now of Stratford-upon- 
Avon, in the counte of W T arwicke, gent, whose parent, 
great grandfather, and late antecessor, for his faithefull 
and approved service* to the late most prudent prince, 
King Henry VII. of famous memorie, was advanced and 
rewarded with lands and tenements, geven to him in those 
parts of Warwickshere, where they have contineued by 
some descents in good reputacion and credit; and for that 
the said John Shakspeare, having maryed the daughter 
and one of the heyrs of Robert Jrden of Wellingcote, in 
the said countie, and also produced this his auncient cote 
of arms heretofore assigned to him, whitest he was her 
Majesties officer and bay lefe of that town f: In consider- 
ation of the premisses, and for the encouragement of his 
posteritie, unto whom suche blazon of arms and achieve- 
ments of inheritance from theyre said mother, by the 
auncyent custome and lawes of arms, maye lawfully 
descend : We the said Garter and Clarencieulx have 
assigned," &c. (here follows a description of the arms) 
" signifying thereby, that it maye and shalbe lawfull for 
the said John Shakspeare, gent, to bear and use the same 
shield of arms, single or impaled, as aforesaid, during his 
natural lyffe ; and that it shalbe lawfull for his children, 

* Mr. Malone y " on examining the two rough draughts of the 
grant of arms," dated I096, found in the most perfect one, " whose 
parents and antecessors were for their valour and faithful services," 
&c. These Avords " great grandfather" and " late," he says, are 
interlineations to the grant of 1599. 

t This coat of arms appears to have been granted 156Q, but the deed 
is not to be found in the Heralds' College. 



XVIII REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

yssue, and posteryte (lawfully begotten) to beare, use, and 
quarter, and show forth the same, with their dewe differ- 
ences, in all lawfull warlyke facts, and civile use or exer- 
cises," &c. By a MS. note to the above grant, John 
Shakspeare is further stated to possess " lands and tene- 
ments in the county of Warwick," valued at 500/. These 
documents serve to show that he was a man of property 
and respectability ; yetRowe,and some other biographers, 
state that he was poor, or " reduced in the latter part of 
life," and incapable of supporting his son William at 
school. They found this opinion on an entry in the books 
of the corporation of Stratford ; wherein it appears that 
John Shakspeare and Robert Bruce, in 1579, (twenty 
years before the date of the above grant of arms) were 
excused paying a weekly fine of Ad* which was levied on 
the other aldermen. In 1586 his name was erased from 
the list of corporate members, and another substituted in 
his place, " because he doth not come to the Halls." 
Though these entries are not demonstrative of poverty or 
disgrace, yet they imply it ; and coupled with the state- 
ment, that he could not afford to pay for his son's school- 
ing, they tend to render the heraldic grant at variance 
with these facts, and leave us in doubt and suspense. If 
unable to pay the usual weekly fine of 4rf« and for the 
son's schooling, we cannot easily account for his obtaining 
the arms of Arden, in 1599, when his son William was 35 
years of age, and when, according to the Stratford regis- 
ters, he had been married to his third wife about eleven 
years, Dr. Drake reconciles these doubts, by supposing 
that the " increasing reputation and affluence of his son 
William," gave him " comparative competence and re- 
spectability" about this time. By the following memo- 
randum in the Heralds' College, and written apparently 
after the death of the alderman, we are justified in think- 
ing favourably of his circumstances. " As for the Spectre 
in bend, it is a patible difference; and the person to whom 
it was granted hath borne magistracy, and was justice of 
peace at Stratford-upon-Avon. He married the daughter 
and lieire of Arderne, and was able to maintain that 
estate," 

In the above documents we do not find any allusion to 
a second wife, or reference to the decease of the heiress of 
Arden: yet Malone, and Wheler (in his useful " History 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. XIX 

of Stratford") assert that John Shakspeare, the presumed 

father of the poet, was thrice married : 1st. to 

Arden, daughter and co-heir of Robert Arden, of Wel- 
lingcote, in Warwickshire, before 1558, by whom he had 
eight children; 2d. to Margery Roberts, Nov. 25, 1584, 

no issue; and 3dly, to Mary , whose maiden name 

is not specified, in 1588, by whom there were issue, three 
children. Of these marriages there are no other particu- 
lars recorded, than the entries of their names, and that of 
their issue, in the parish register. Hence some doubts 
arise, and we have no clue to solve them. Malone, and 
Dr. Drake, suggest as a probability, that Shakspeare's 
father might have had a son, named John, who was bap- 
tised before the Stratford register commences, (Sept. 15, 
1558) and that some of the baptismal and marriage en- 
tries, refer to John, the younger, and not the elder. 
Admitting this to be probable and true, we have some 
difficulties removed. The grant of arms has no allusion to 
a second or third wife, or to the name of the heir. The 
armorial shield on the Poet's tomb, has only one bearing, 
that of Arden. Thus, is it not extremely probable, that 
there were two or more persons named John Shakspeare, 
living at the same time at Stratford, or in its immediate 
vicinity ? 

William Shakspeare, the pride of England and of 
nature, first drew breath in the town of Stratford-upon- 
Avon, in the county of Warwick, on the 23d day of April, 
1564. His juvenile habits and early associations are 
unknown ; but it has been inferred from his writings, that 
he did not receive a very liberal, or as it is commonly 
called " learned education." Rowe states, that he was 
" for some time at a free school, where it is probable he 
acquired what Latin he was master of; but that the 
narrowness of his circumstances, and the want of his 
assistance at home, forced his father to withdraw him from 
thence, and unhappily prevented his further proficiency in 
that language." On this statement Malone remarks, in a 
note, " I believe that on leaving school, Shakspeare was 
placed in the office of some country attorney, or the 
seneschal of some manor court." The principal reason 
which this commentator urges for his opinion, is the 
appearance of" legal technical skill," which is manifested 
in our poet's plays. But whatever doubts there may be 



XX REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

as to his employment on leaving school, it is certain that 
he early entered into the matrimonial condition, for an 
entry in the Stratford register mentions, that " Susanna, 
daughter of William Shakspeare, was baptised May 26", 
1583," when he was only nineteen years of age. His 
wife was Anne Hathaway % who is said to have been the 
" daughter of a substantial yeoman, then residing at the 
village of Shottery," which is distant about a mile from 
the town of Stratford. From the inscription (quoted in 
the sequel) on her tombstone in the church, she was eight 
years older than her husband, to whom she brought three 
children, Susanna, Judith, and Hamnet: the two last were 
twins, and were baptised February 2, 1584-5. 

Concerning the domestic economy of Shakspeare after 
his marriage, and the means by which he maintained his 
family, neither tradition nor record furnish the most dis- 
tant hint. Nor is the date of his leaving Stratford better 
ascertained ; but it is conjectured, with much plausibility, 
that it did not take place till after the birth of his twin 
children. As to the cause of his flight to the metropolis, 
the common story is, that being detected in robbing the 
deer-park of Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecote, that gentle- 
man, who was one of the county magistrates, prosecuted 
him with so much rigour, that he found it necessary to 
escape beyond the boundaries of his influence and juris- 
diction. Sir Thomas's spirit of justice, or, as some call it, 
revenge, is said, on this occasion, to have been stimulated 
by a ballad written by Shakspeare, of which the following 
stanza was communicated to Steevens by Mr. Oldys, 
Norroy King at Arms : 

" A parlicmente member, a justice of peace, 
At home a poor scare-crowe, at London an asse; 
If lowsie is Lucie, as some volke miscalle it, 
Then Lucie is lowsie whatever befall it. 

He thinks himself greate, 

Yet an asse in his state 
We allowe by his ears but with asses to mate. 
If Lucie is lowsie, as some volke miscalle it, 
Sing lowsie Lucie whatever befall it." 

This story of Sir Thomas, and the deer, is not very well 
substantiated, and it comes " in a questionable shape." 
Without dwelling on it, or crediting another story of 
Shakspeare being employed to hold horses at the doors of 
the theatre, we shnll rather be inclined to attribute his 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. XXi 

removal to London to domestic differences, combined with 
the persuasion of Thomas Green, a relation and towns- 
man, who had been settled in the metropolis, and was 
noted as " a celebrated comedian." That there was an 
estrangement from his wife, may be inferred from the 
fact of his having no progeny, by her, after the twins of 
1584; from an entry of burial in the register, of" Thomas 
Greene, alias Shakspeare," in 1589-90; and from his 
neglect of her in his will, wherein her name is interlined, 
and with a legacy of the " second best bed" only. 

" Had not poverty and prosecution," remarks Dr. 
Drake, " united in driving Shakspeare from his humble 
occupation in Warwickshire, how many matchless lessons 
of wisdom and morality, how many unparalleled displays 
of wit and imagination, of pathos and sublimity, had 
been buried in oblivion ; pictures of emotion, of character, 
of passion, more profound than philosophy had ever con- 
ceived, more impressive than poetry had ever yet em- 
bodied; strains, which shall now sound through distant 
posterity with increasing energy and interest, and which 
shall powerfully and beneficially continue to influence and 
to mould both national and individual feeling." 

The inducement of Shakspeare to resort to the theatre, 
and his first employment after his arrival in London, are 
matters no less clouded with obscurity, than the previous 
incidents of his life. " No era in the Annals of Literary 
History," justly observes Dr. Drake, " ever perhaps 
occurred of greater importance than that which wit- 
nessed the entrance of Shakspeare into the metropolis of 
his native country. The office which he first held in the 
theatre, according to stage tradition, was that of call-boy, 
or prompter's attendant, but this statement is almost as 
questionable as the legendary tale of Pope, of his taking 
charge of horses. At all events, his continuance in that 
capacity was of very short duration. Talents like his 
could not remain long unnoticed or unemployed ; but we 
are inclined to think that he was earlier distinguished as a 
player than as a dramatic writer. He must have made 
himself conversant with the machinery of the stage, its 
language, &c. before he composed his plays." 

We now come to that era in the life of Shakspeare, 
when he began to write his immortal dramas, and to de- 
velope those powers which have rendered him the delight 
c 



XX11 REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

and wonder of successive ages. At the time of his be- 
coming in some degree a public character, we naturally 
expected to find many anecdotes recorded of his literary 
history: but, by a strange fatality, the same want of au- 
thentic record, the same absence of all contemporary 
anecdote marks every stage of his life. Even the date at 
which his first play appeared is unknown ; and the great- 
est uncertainty prevails with respect to the chronological 
order in which the whole series was exhibited or pub- 
lished. As this subject was justly considered by Malone 
to be both curious and interesting, he has appropriated to 
its examination a long and laborious essay. Chalmers, in 
his " Supplemental Apology," however, endeavours to con- 
trovert Malone's dates, and assigns them to other eras. 
Dr. Drake suggests a new chronological arrangement, and 
assigns very plausible arguments in support of his opinions. 
He thinks that the first drama, " either wholly, or in great 
part," written by him, was Pericles, which was produced 
in 1 590. Malone says, the " First Part of King Henry VI." 
published in 15S9, and commonly attributed to Shakspeare, 
was not written by him, though it might receive some cor- 
rections from his pen at a subsequent period, in order to 
fit it for representation. The " Second Part of King 
Henry VV this writer contends, ought therefore to be 
considered as Shakspeare 's first dramatic piece; and he 
thinks that it might be composed about the year 1591, but 
certainly not earlier than 1590. 



CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. 

Malone. Chalmers. Drake. 

1. Pericles . 1590 

2. Henry VI. Part 1 1595 1592 

3. Part II 1591 1595 1592 

4. Part III 1591 1595 

5. A Midsummer Night's Dream .... 1592 1598 1593 

6. Comedy of Errors 1593 1591 1591 

7. Taming of the Shrew 1594 1598 1594 

8. Love's Labour's Lost 1594 1592 1591 

9. Two Gentlemen of Verona 1595 1595 1595 

10. Romeo and Juliet 1595 1592 1593 

11. Hamlet... 1596 1597 1597 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. XX111 

Malone.Chalmers.Drake. 

12. King John 1596 1598 1597 

13. King Richard II 1597 1596 1596 

14. King Richard III 1597 1595 1595 

15. King Henry IV. Part 1 1597 1596 1596 

16. Part II 1598 1597 1596 

17. Merchant of Venice 1598 1597 1597 

18. All's Well that End's Well 1598 1599 1598 

19. King Henry V 1599 1597 1599 

20. Much Ado about Nothing 1600 1599 1599 

21. As You Like It 1600 1599 1600 

22. Merry Wives of Windsor 1601 1596 1601 

23. King Henry VIII 1601 1613 1602 

24. Troilusand Cressida 1602 1600 1603 

25. Measure for Measure 1603 1604 1601 

26. The Winter's Tale 1604 1601 1610 

27. King Lear 1605 1605 1604 

28. Cymbeline 1605 1606 1605 

29. Macbeth 1606 1606 1606 

30. Julius Cffisar 1607 1607 1607 

31. Antony and Cleopatra 1608 1608 1608 

32. Timon of Athens 1609 1601 1602 

33. Coriolanus 1610 1609 1609 

34. Othello 1611 1614 1612 

35. The Tempest 1612 1613 1611 

36. Twelfth Night 1614 1613 1613 



Much has been said by different commentators on cer- 
tain plays, ascribed to Shakspeare, but which are of such a 
doubtful class, that it is almost impossible to identify their 
authors; and it is quite impossible to prove them " to be, 
or not to be" the writings of the bard of Avon. Titus 
jindronicus is generally classed with his plays, but all the 
critics, except Capell and Schlegel, consider it to be un- 
worthy of Shakspeare. The editors of the first folio edi- 
tion, however, have included it in that volume ; which, 
combined with other circumstances, implies that they 
considered the play as his production. George Meres, 
a contemporary and admirer of Shakspeare, enumerates 
it among his works in 1598, and Meres was personally 
acquainted with, and consulted by our Poet. " I can- 
not conceive," says Schlegel, " that all the critical seep- 



XXIV REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

ticism in the world would be sufficient to get over such 
a testimony." The same critic assigns other reasons to 
show that this play was one of Shakspeare's early produc- 
tions, between 15S4 and 1590. " Can we imagine," he 
asks, " that such an active head would remain idle for six 
whole years, without making any attempt to emerge by his 
talents from an uncongenial situation?" The following 
pieces appeared during Shakspeare's life-time, and with 
his name to them. 1. Locrine; 2. Sir John Oldcastle; 
3. Lord Cromwell; 4. The London Prodigal; 5. The Puri- 
tan; and, 6. A Yorkshire Tragedy, Schlegel, speaking of 
these plays, says, " the three last are not only unquestion- 
ably Shakspeare's, but, in my opinion, they deserve to be 
classed among his best and maturest works." Steevens 
admits, at least in some degree, that they are Shakspeare's, 
as well as the others, excepting Locrine, but he speaks of all 
of them with great contempt, " as quite worthless produc- 
tions." On the same subject let us hear the decided lan- 
guage of Dr. Drake (ii. 536.) " Of these wretched dramas, 
it has been now positively proved, through the medium of 
the Henslowe papers, that the name of Shakspeare, which 
is printed at length in the title-pages of Sir John Oldcastle, 
1600; and The London Prodigal, 1605; was affixed to 
those pieces by a knavish bookseller, without any foun- 
dation *." Eight other dramatic pieces have been attri- 
buted to Shakspeare: all of which are condemned by Dr. 
Drake, who says, he does not believe that " twenty lines 
can be found of Shakspeare, in Henry VI. or Titus Andro- 
mews," and not so many in the six above enumerated: there- 
fore, eays he, " it would be utter abuse of time to enter 
into any critical discussion of the merits or defects of those 
pieces." The same may be said of other volumes, con- 
sisting of poems, &c. which certain impudent publishers 
have foisted on the world, even with the name of Shak- 
speare in the title-page. 1 have seen a rare little volume, 
called Cupid's Cabinet Unlocked, in the possession of James 
Perry, Esq. with his name; but it has no other character- 
istic of the great author, whose name is thus prostituted. 

Shakspeare, besides his plays, wrote several Poetical 
pieces, viz. " Venus and Adonis," printed in 1593; "The 
Rape of Lucrece," printed in 1594; kt The Passionate 
Pilgrim," printed in 1599; "A Lover's Complaint," not 

* See Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. !>• 390, &c. 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. XXV 

dated; and a Collection of Sonnets, printed in 1609. The 
first and second of these productions were dedicated to the 
Earl of Southampton, who is stated, on the authority of 
Sir William D'Avenant, to have given the poet a thou- 
sand pounds. If this anecdote be really true, it evinces 
a spirit of liberality and well-directed munificence, which 
entitles his lordship to the highest rank among the patrons 
of genius. It shows also that Shakspeare's merits were 
appreciated by some eminent characters, even in his life- 
time ; a truth which is confirmed by the rapid sale of his 
poems, and by the attentions which he received from Queen 
Elizabeth, and her successor, King James. The former, 
says Rowe, had several of his plays acted before her, and 
€i without doubt gave him many gracious marks of her fa- 
vour." According to the same writer, it was at her desire 
he composed the Merry Wives of Windsor. King James 
also was present at the representation of many of his pieces, 
and is stated by Lintot to have written to him " an ami- 
cable letter" with his own hand, and as Dr. Facmer con- 
jectures, in return for the compliment paid him in Mac- 
beth. This letter is said to have remained long in the 
possession of Sir William D'Avenant, who, according to 
some persons, was an illegitimate son of the poet. 

Shakspeare, as already hinted, was an Actor as well as 
a writer of plays, and seems to have taken a share in the 
representation of many of his own productions. As late 
as the year 1603, only thirteen years before his death, his 
name appears among the actors of Ben Jonson's play of 
Sejanus. Thus it is evident that he continued to perform 
many years: but of his merits as a player, we find no po- 
sitive data to found an accurate estimate, and hence there 
is much diversity cf opinion among his commentators. 
Performers and dramatic authors were not then so closely 
watched, or so fastidiouly criticised as in the present age; 
indeed diurnal reviewers were then unknown. From some 
satirical passages in the writings of his contemporaries, he 
appears not to have been a favourite actor with the public. 
His instructions on the subject of acting, however, in 
Hamlet, are so peculiarly excellent, that we are not a little 
inclined to suspect, if he was unpopular, that it arose rather 
from the want of taste in his audience, than from any de- 
ficiency of theatrical powers in himself. The " science of 
acting" was then only in its infancv; and as he that " strutted 
c 2 ' 



XWl REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

and bellowed" most, was probably esteemed the best 
player, Shakspeare's gentleness would be considered tame- 
ness, and his observance of nature ignorance of his art. 
It has been traditionally said, and with every degree of 
probability, that our poet was a good performer; and that 
the notice he obtained by the personification of the Ghost 
in his own play of Hamlet, shows, he not only knew how 
to " suit the action to the word, and the word to the ac- 
tion," but could execute this advice. The whole of Ham- 
let's directions to the players, are so full of " pith and 
moment," so apposite, copious, and replete with sound 
sense, that one cannot doubt the ample qualifications of 
its author to feel, understand, and indeed accomplish 
parts of those instructions. Aubrey's testimony is, that 
Shakspeare " did act exceedingly well." 

At what period our poet gave up all personal connexion 
with the theatre has not been discovered ; but it is pro- 
bable that he retired from it at least three years before his 
death. Rowe indeed states, that " the latter part of his 
life was spent, as all men of good sense would wish theirs 
may be; in ease, retirement, and the conversation of his 
friends." During his dramatic career, he acquired a share 
in the property of the Globe Theatre, and was joint ma- 
nager of the same; his name is mentioned in the licence 
granted by King James, in 1603, for the exhibition of 
pla^ s in that house, and in any part of the kingdom. This 
share he probably sold when he finally retired to Stratford, 
as it is neither alluded to in his will, nor docs his name 
occur in the accounts of the theatre for 1613. 

Shakspeare, like most men of pre-eminent talents, is 
said to have been much assailed by the attacks of envious 
rivals ; yet we are assured that diffidence and good-nature 
were the peculiar characteristics of his personal deport- 
ment. Among those who are stated to have treated him 
with hostility, was the celebrated Ben Jonson ; but Dr. 
Farmer thinks, that though Jonson was arrogant of his 
scholarship, and publicly professed a rivalship of Shak- 
speare, he was in private his friend and associate. Pope> 
in his preface says, that Jonson " loved" Shakspeare," as 
well as honoured his memory ; celebrates the honesty, 
openness, and frankness of his temper; and only distin- 
guishes, as he reasonably ought, between the real merit of 
the author, and the silly and derogatory applauses of the 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. XXVil 

players. Mr. Gilchrist, whose dramatic criticisms are ge- 
nerally profound and acute, has published a pamphlet to 
prove that Jonson was never a harsh, or an envious rival 
of Shakspeare , and that the popular opinion on this sub- 
ject is founded in error. The following story respecting * 
these two great dramatists is related by Rowe, and has 
been generally credited by subsequent biographers. " Mr. 
Jonson, who was at that time altogether unknown to 
the world, had offered one of his plays to the players, 
in order to have it acted; and the persons into whose 
hands it was put, after having turned it carelessly and 
superciliously over, were, just upon returning it to him 
with an ill-natured answer, that it would be of no ser- 
vice to their company, when Shakspeare luckily cast his 
eye upon it, and found something so well in it, as to engage 
him first to read it through, and afterwards to recommend 
Mr. Jonson and his writings to the public." 

The opposition or rivalship of Shakspeare and Jonson 
produced, as might naturally be expected, much conten- 
tion concerning the relative merits of each between their 
respective friends and admirers ; and it is not a little re- 
markable, that Jonson seems to have maintained a higher 
place in the estimation of the public in general than our 
poet, for more than a century after the death of the latter. 
Within that period Jonson's works are said to have passed 
through several editions, and to have been read with avi- 
dity, while Shakspeare's were comparatively neglected 
till the time of Rowe. This circumstance is in a great 
measure to be accounted for on the principle that classical 
literature and collegiate learning were regarded in those 
days as the chief criterions of merit. Accordingly Jon- 
son's charge against Shakspeare was the want of that spe- 
cies of knowledge; and from his own proficiency in it, he 
probably arrogated a superiority. That all classical scho- 
lars, however, did not sanction Jonson's pretensions is 
certain ; for among the greatest admirers of Shakspeare, 
was one of the most learned men of his age, the ever- 
memorable Hales. On one occasion the latter, after lis- 
tening in silence to a warm debate between Sir John 
Suckling and Jonson, is reported to have interposed by 
observing," That if Shakspeare had not read the ancients, 
he had likewise not stolen any thing from them; and that 
if he (Jocson) would produce any one topic finely treated 



XXViii REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

by any one of them, he would undertake to show some* 
thing upon the same subject, at least as well written by 
Shakspeare." A trial, it is added, being in consequence 
agreed to, judges were appointed to decide the dispute, 
who unanimously voted in favour of the English poet, 
after a candid examination and comparison of the pas- 
sages produced by the contending parties. 

u Shakspeare," observes Rowe, " had the good fortune 
to gather an estate equal to his occasion, and in that to his 
wish ;" but the biographer does not even hint at the 
amount of the poet's income. Malone, however, judging 
from the bequests in Shakspeare's Will, thinks it might 
be about 200/. per year; which at the age when he lived, 
was equal to 800?. a year at the present time- Subsequent 
to his retirement from the stage, he resided in a house at 
Stratford which he had purchased, according to Wheler, 
in 1597, from the family of Underhill. and which, previous 
to that time had been called the Great House, probably 
from its having been the best in the town, when it was 
originally erected by Sir Hugh Clopton, in the reign of 
Henry the Seventh. The poet appears to have made con- 
siderable alterations in this house, and changed its name 
to New-place, Here he seems to have resided a few years 
in retirement, but not without devoting some time to dra- 
matic composition ; for Malone asserts, that the play of 
Twelfth Night was written after his finalresidence at Strat- 
ford. In this house he died, on Tuesday, April 23, 16] 6, 
being the anniversary of his 52d year*; in two days af- 
terwards his remains were interred within the chancel of 
the parish church ; where a flat stone and a mural monu- 
ment were afterwards placed to point out the spot, and 
commemorate his likeness, name, and memory. 

Such is the substance of the scanty notices respecting 
the life of Shakspeare, which we are enabled to collect 
from Rowe, and from the various commentators on his 
work, to Dr. Drake inclusive. To these we shall add, the 
following anecdotes, in his own words, as recorded bv 
John sfubrey in his MS. collections in the Ashmolean 
Museum at Oxford. It is worthy of note that Aubrey 
resided at Oxford for several years after 1642; that lie 
was intimate with Sir William D'Avenant, llobbes, Mil- 

* It is a remarkable coincidence that Cervantes, the most original 
genius on the Continent, died on the same day. 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. XXIX 

ton, Ray, &c. ; that he made it a practice to collect and 
write down anecdotes of his friends and of public cha- 
racters; that D'Avenant knew Shakspeare; that there 
was frequent communication between Stratford and Ox- 
ford ; and that, although there are some variations in the 
accounts of Rowe and Aubrey, the latter is most entitled 
to credit. He states that 

" Mr. William Shakespear was borne at Stratford-upon- 
Avon, in the county of Warwick: his father was a butcher, 
and I have been told heretofore by some of the neighbours, 
that when he was a boy he exercised his father's trade, 
but when he kill'd a calfe he would doe it in a high style 
and make a speech. There was at that time another 
butcher's son in this towne, that was helde not at ail infe- 
rior to him for a naturall witt, his acquaintance and coe- 
tanean, but died young. This W m - being inclined natu- 
rally to poetry and acting came to London, J guesse 
about 18, and was an actor at one of the play-houses, 
and did acte exceedingly well. Now B. Jonson never 
was a good actor, but an excellent instructor. He began 
early to make essayes at dramatique poetry, which at 
that time was \ery lowe, and his playes tooke well. He 
was a handsome well shap't man, very good company, and 
of a very readie and pleasant smooth witt : the humour of 
- — , the constable in a Midsummer Night's Dreame, he 
happened to take at Grendon, in Bucks, which is the 
roade from London to Stratford ; and there was living 
that constable about 1642, when I first came to Oxon. 
Mr. Jos. Howe is of that parish, and knew him. Ben. 
Jonson and he did gather humours of men dayly, wherever 
they came. One time, as he was at the tavern, at Strat- 
ford-upon-Avon, one Combes, an old rich usurer, was to 
be buryed, he makes there this extemporary epitaph: 

" Ten in the hundred the devill allowes, 

But Combes will have twelve he sweares and vowes: 

If any one askes vrho lies in this tombe ? 

' Hoh,' quoth the devill, ' 'tis my John o' Combe.' 

" He was wont to goe to his native country once a yeare. 
I think I have been told, that he left 2 or 300 lib. per 
annum, there and therabout, to a sister. I have heard Sir 
Wm. D'Avenant, and Mr. Thomas Shadwell (who is 
counted the best comcedian we have now), say that he had 
a most prodigious witt; and did admire his naturall parts 



*NX REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

beyond all other dramaticall writers. He was wont to 
say that he never blotted out aline in his life: say'd Ben 
Jonson, ' I wish he had blotted out a thousand.' His co- 
mcedies will remain witt as long as the English tongue is 
understood, for that he handles mores hominum; now our 
present writers reflect so much upon particular persons 
and coxcombeities that twenty years hence they will not 
be understood. 

" Though, as Ben Jonson sayes of him, that he had but 
little Latine and lesse Greek, he understood Latine pretty 
well, for he had been in his younger years a schoolmaster 
in the country." See Letters from the Bodleian Library, 
cScc. Vol. iii. p. 307. 

The above account, though apparently sanctioned by 
good authority, and probably written about thirty years 
after Shakspeare's death, is treated by some of his bio- 
graphers as wholly incredible. Of this opinion is Malone, 
in his notes upon the Life of our poet by Rowe; but in 
his own " Historical Account of the English Stage," he 
seems at a loss whether to argue for or against the proba- 
bility of Aubrey's statement. The same wavering and 
inconsistency, on dubious points, are visible in other parts 
of the writings of that commentator. Thus in one place 
he is positive that Shakspeare's father was thrice married; 
and in another, he is equally confident that he had not 
more than two wives. Jn his chronology, he states 1591 
to be the year in which our author commenced writer 
for the stage, and argues throughout the whole essay on 
that presumption ; but in his remarks relative to the 
passage above quoted, he says, " We have no proof that 
he did not woo the dramatic muse even so early as 1587 
or 1588; and therefore till such proof shall be produced, 
Mr. Aubrey's assertion, founded apparently on the infor- 
mation of those who lived very near the time, is entitled to 
some weight." 

The Monument erected to his memory is constructed 
partly of marble and partly of stone, and consists of a 
half-length bust of the deceased, with a cushion before 
him, placpd under an ornamental canopy, between two 
columns of the corinthian order, supporting an entablature. 
Attached to the latter are the Arden arms and crest, sculp- 
tured in relief. Beneath the bust are the following lines: 
probably by B. Jonson. 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. XXXI 

Judicio Pylivm, genio Socratem, arte Maronem, 
Terra tegit, popvlvs mceret, Olympvs habet. 
Stay, passenger, why goest thou by so fast? 
Read, if thov canst, whom enviovs death hath plast 
Within this monvment, Shakspeare, with whome 
Qvick natvre dide; whose name doth deck ys tombe 
Far more than coste; sieth ail yt he hath writt 
Leaves living art bvt page to serve his witt. 
Obiit Ano. Doi. I6l6, setatis 53, die 23 Ap. 

On a flat stone which covers the poet's grave is this 
curious but vulgar inscription: 

Good frend for Jesvs' saice forbeare 
To digg the dvst encioased heare ; 
Blese be ye. man yt spares thes stones, 
And cvrst be he yt. moves my bones. 

The common tradition is, that the last four lines were 
written by Shakspeare himself; but this notion has per- 
haps originated solely from the use of the word " ray," in 
the last line. The imprecation, says Malone, was proba- 
bly suggested by an apprehension " that our author's re- 
mains might share the same fate with those of the rest of 
his countrymen, and be added to the immense pile of 
human bones deposited in the charnel-house at Stratford." 
It is not very likely that Shakspeare ever wrote these 
silly lines. 

Mrs. Shakspeare, who survived her husband eight years, 
was buried between his grave and the north wall of the 
chancel, under a stone inlaid with brass, and inscribed 
thus: 

" Heere lyeth interred the bodye of Anne, wife of Mr. William 
Shakespeare, who depted. this life the 6th day of Avgvst, 1623, being 
of the age of 67 yeares. 

Vbera, tv Mater, tv lac vitamq. dedisti, 

Vae mihi ; pro tan to mvnere saxa dabo ! 

Qvam Mallem, amoveat lapidem,bonvs angel' ore' 

Exeat vt Christi Corpvs, imago tva, 

Sed nil vota valent, venias cito Christe resvrget, 

Clavsa licet tvmvlo mater, et astra petet." 

The family of Shakspeare, as already mentioned, con- 
sisted only of one son and two daughters. The son died 
in 1592; but both the daughters survived their father. 
The eldest, Susanna, married Dr. John Hall, a physician 
of Stratford, who is said to have obtained much reputa- 
tion and practice. She brought her husband an only 
child, Elizabeth, who was married, first, to Thomas Nashe, 
Esq. and afterwards to Sir John Barnard of Abingdon in 



XXX11 REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

Northamptonshire; but had no issue by either of them. 
Judith, Shakspeare's second daughter, married Thomas 
Quiney, a vintner of Stratford, by whom she had three 
children; but as none of them reached their twentieth 
year, they left no posterity. Hence our poet's last lineal 
descendant was Lady Barnard, who was buried at Abing- 
don, Feb. 17, 1669-70. Dr. Hall, her father, died Nov. 
25, 1635, and her mother, July 11, 1649: and both were 
interred in Stratford church under flat stones, bearing in- 
scriptions to their respective memories. 

Shakspeare, by his Will, still preserved in the office of 
the Prerogative Court, London, and bearing date the 25th 
day of March, 1616, made the following bequests: 

To his daughter Judith he gave 150/. of lawful English 
money; one hundred to be paid in discharge of her mar- 
riage portion, within one year after his decease, and 
the remaining fifty upon her giving up, in favour of her 
elder sister, Susanna Hall, all her right in a copyhold te- 
nement and appurtenances, parcel of the manor of Itow- 
ington. To the said Judith he also bequeathed 150/. 
more, if she or any of her issue were living three years 
after the date of his will; but in the contrary event, then 
he directed that 100/. of the sum should be paid to his 
niece, Elizabeth Hall, and the proceeds of the fifty to his 
sister, Joan, or Jone Hart, for life, with residue to her 
children. He further gave to the said Judith, " his broad 
silver gilt bowl." 

To his sister Joan, besides the contingent bequest above 
mentioned, he gave twenty pounds and all his wearing 
apparel; also the house in Stratford, in which she was to 
reside for her natural life, under the 3 early rent of twelve- 
pence. 

To her three sons, William Hart, Hart, and Michael 

Hart, he gave five pounds a-piece ; to be paid within one 
year after his decease. 

To his grand-daughter, Elizabeth Hall, he bequeathed 
all his plate, the silver bowl above excepted. 

To the poor of Stratford he bequeathed ten pounds; to 
Mr. Thomas Combe, his sword; to Thomas Russel, five 
pounds; to Francis Collins, esq. thirteen pounds six shil- 
lings and eight-pence; to Hamlet (Hamnet) Sadler, twen- 
ty-six shillings and eight-pence to buy a ring; and a like 
sum, for the same purpose, to William Reynolds, gent. 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARF. XXXIU 

Anthony Nash, gent. John Hemynge, Richard Burbage, 
and Henry Cundell, his "fellows:" also twenty shillings 
in gold to his godson, William Walker. 

To his daughter, Susanna Hall, he bequeathed New-place, 
with its appurtenances; two messuages or tenements, with 
their appurtenances, situated in Henley-street; also all his 
" barns, stables, orchards, gardens, lands, tenements, and 
hereditaments whatsoever, situate, lying, and being, or to 
be had, received, perceived, or taken, within the towns, 
hamlets, villages, fields, and grounds of Stratford-upon- 
Avon, Old Stratford, Bishopton, aud Welcombe, or in any 
of them, in the said county of Warwick; and also all that 
messuage or tenement, with the appurtenances, wherein one 
John Robinson dwelletb, situated, lying, and being in the 
Blackfriars, London, near the Wardrobe ; and all my other 
lands, tenements, and hereditaments whatsoever: to have 
and to bold all and singular the said premises, with their 
appurtenances, unto the said Susanna Hall, for and during 
the term of her natural life; and after her decease, to the 
first son of her body lawfully issuing, and to the heirs males 
of the body of the said first son, lawfully issuing ; and for 
default of such issue, to the second son of her body law- 
fully issuing, and to the heirs males of the body of the 
said second son lawfully issuing;" and so forth, as to the 
third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh sons of her body and 
their male heirs: " and for default of such issue, the said 
premises to be and remain to my said niece Hall, and the 
heirs males of her body lawfully issuing; and for default 
of such issue, to my daughter Judith, and the heirs males 
of her body lawfully issuing; and for default of such issue, 
to the right heirs of me the said William Shakspeare." 

To the said Susanna Hall, and her husband, whom he 
appointed executors of his will, under the direction of 
Francis Collins and Thomas Russel, esqrs. he further be- 
queathed all the rest of his "goods, chattels, leases, plate, 
jewels, and household stuff whatsoever," after the payment 
of his debts, legacies, and funeral expenses; with the ex- 
ception of his " second best bed with the furniture," 
which constituted the only bequest he made to his wife, 
and that by insertion after the will was written out. 

The houses mentioned above, as being situated in Hen- 
ley-street, according to tradition, originally constituted a 
single mansion, the residence of our poet's father, and the 
immediate scene of his own birth, 
d 



XXXIV REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

New Place, the residence of Shakspeare, was occupied 
after his death by Mr. and Mrs. Hall, the latter of whom 
survived her husband several years. During her residence 
in it in her widowhood, it was honoured by the temporary 
abode of Henrietta Maria, queen to Charles the First. 
On the decease of Mrs. Hall, it became the property of 
her daughter, Lady Barnard, and was sold by her surviv- 
ing executor, to Edward Nash, Esq. who bequeathed it to 
his daughter Mary, wife of Sir Reginald Forster. By that 
gentleman it was sold to Sir John Clopton, a descendant 
from the original proprietor and founder. Here, under a 
mulberry tree planted by Shakspeare's own hand, Garrick, 
Macklin, and Delany, were hospitably entertained, when 
they visited Stratford, in 1742, by Sir Hugh Clopton, bar- 
rister at law, who repaired and beautified the house, in- 
stead of (as Malone asserts) pulling it down, and building 
another on its site. On his death it was sold, in 1752, by 
his son-in-law, Henry Talbot, Esq. to the Rev. Francis 
Gastrell, who cut down the mulberry-tree to save himself 
the trouble of showing it to visitors. 

Many Portraits have been engraved, and published as 
likenesses of our bard ; but it is a lamentable and extraor- 
dinary fact, that there is no authority attached to one c*f 
them. The pedigree of each is defective, and even that 
in the title of the first folio edition of the author's works, 
and so poetically extolled by Jonson, is so badly drawn 
and executed, that it cannot be a good likeness. — Not so, 
the monumental bust in Stratford church ; for this appeals 
to our eyes and understandings, with all the force of truth. 
It is indeed the most authentic and probable portrait of 
the poet. It was executed soon after his decease, and 
according to the creditable tradition of the town, was 
copied from a cast after nature. We also know that 
Leonard Digges mentions the " Stratford monument," in 
his lines prefixed to the folio edition of Shakspeare's plays 
of 1628; whence it is certain that the bust was executed 
within seven years of the poet's death. The common 
practice in that age of executing monumental busts of il- 
lustrious and eminent persons, is also in favour of this at 
Stratford: but we have a still better criterion, and a more 
forcible argument in its behalf: one that " flashes, convic- 
tion" to the eye of the intelligent artist and anatomist, 
This is the truth of drawing with the accuracy of muscular 
forms, and shape of the skull which distinguishes the bust 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. XXXV 

now referred to, and which are evidences of a faithful 
sculptor. The head is cut out of a block of stone, and 
was formerly coloured in imitation of nature: but Mr. 
Malone prevailed on the respectable clergyman of Strat- 
ford, to have it re-painted all over with white-lead, &c. 
By this absurd and tasteless operation, the character and 
expression of the features are much injured. It was the 
practice of the time to paint busts to imitate nature; and 
had this been left in its original state and colour, some 
useful information would have been imparted. Provoked 
at this act of Malone, a visitor to Stratford Church left 
the following lines in a book kept near this tomb. 

Stranger, to whom this monument is shown, 
Invoke the Poet's curses on Malone ; 
Whose meddling zeal his barb'rous taste displays, 
And smears his tomb-stone as he marfd his plays. 

Mr. Malone characterises the bust for its " pertness of 
countenance; and therefore totally differing from that 
placid composure and thoughtful gravity, so perceptible 
in his original portrait, and his best prints. Our poet's 
monument, having been erected by his son-in-law, Dr. 
Hall, the statuary [sculptor] probably had the assistance 
of some picture, and failed from want of skill to copy it." 
Thus prepossession and prejudice will always pervert 
facts, and resort to sophistry. In spite of all that has 
been advanced by Mr. Malone, by Jonson, and by other 
writers, in behalf of different pictures and prints profess- 
ing to be likenesses of Shakspeare, they are to me unsatis- 
factory, and indeed futile: for a bad artist can never 
produce a good portrait, nor can we place any reliance 
on the execution of an unskilful engraver, or a worn-out 
picture. Whatever comes in " a questionable shape," 
should be severely and fastidiously investigated ; if not 
authenticated by proof, or supported by powerful proba- 
bility, should be banished from the page of history, and 
from the receptacles of belief. 

From what has alreadj' been stated, it is evident that 
the writings of Shakspeare have progressively acquired 
considerable publicity; and that they now rank as chief, 
or in the first list of British classics. This high celebrity is 
to be attributed to various secondary causes, as well as to 
their own intrinsic merits. To players, critics, biogra- 
phers, and artists, a large portion of this celebrity is to be 



XXXVI REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

ascribed; for had the plays been represented by Garrick, 
Kemble, &c. as originally published by Condell and 
Hemynge, or reprinted verbatim from that text, the spec- 
tators to the one, and the readers of the other, would have 
been comparatively limited. It is talent only that can 
properly represent and appreciate talent. The birth and 
productions of one man of brilliant genius will stimulate 
the emulation, and call into action the ftill powers of a 
correlative mind. Hence the British theatrical hemisphere 
has been repeatedly illumined by the corruscations of 
Garrick, Henderson, Pritchard, Kemble, Siddons, Cooke, 
Young, and Kean : and those performers have derived no 
small portion of their justly acquired fame, from the ex- 
quisite and powerful writings of the bard of Avon. Whilst 
the one may be considered as the creator of thought and 
inventor of character, the others have personified and 
given u local habitation" and existence to the poetical 
vision. The painter has also been usefully and honourably 
employed in delineating incidents, and portraying cha- 
racters and scenes from the poet : whilst the engraver, by 
his attractive art, has given them extensive circulation 
and permanent record. It may thus be said that the works 
of Shakspeare have conferred a literary and dramatic im- 
mortality on Great Britain, which nothing less than anni- 
hilation can destroy. 

Although the full contents of the cornucopia of panegy- 
ric have been poured out on the merits of Shakspeare; — 
although some writers have given an unbridled licence to 
their pens in praising his works ; we rarely find such en- 
comiums extravagant; the language of flattery is simple 
approbation when thus applied; and I presume it has 
often oceurred to others, as it has to myself, that no strains 
of praise ever have satisfied, or ever will fully satisfy our 
own conception of his merits. We continually recur to 
his works with unceasing and renewed delight. We turn 
over his pages with confidence of finding novelties — beau- 
ties — bursts of intellect, to awaken and gratify the best 
propensities. Whether our purpose be to amuse the idle 
hour — to inform the understanding — to stimulate the senses 
to generous action — or to ardent enterprise: whether we 
seek to know the history of man as he has been, is, and 
ought to be, we shall be amply instructed by the profound 
writings of this unrivalled author. Justly might Milton 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. XXXVll 

exclaim, " Dear son of memory, great heir of fame!" for 
he must be inestimably dear to every human being who 
cherishes and appreciates memory; and he may with 
great propriety be pronounced the truly legitimate heir of 
fame. 

" An overstrained enthusiasm," says Hazlitt, " is more 
pardonable, with respect to Shakspeare, than the want of 
it; for our admiration cannot easily surpass his genius." 
Again, Pope remarks, Shakspeare's " characters are so 
much nature herself, that it is a sort of injury to call them 
by so distant a name as copies of her. Those of other 
poets have a constant resemblance, which shows that they 
received them from one another, and were but multipliers 
of the same image: each picture, like a mock rainbow, is 
but the reflection of a reflection. Eut every single cha- 
racter in Shakspeare is as much an individual, as those of 
life itself; it is as impossible to find any two alike; and 
such as from their relation or affinity in any respect ap- 
pear most to be twins, will, upon comparison, be found 
remarkably distinct." Preface. 

Among the many wreaths that have been formed to de- 
corate his brows, I believe there is no one more apposite 
and eloquent than the following, from that genuine English 
poet, Dr. Wolcott, in his " Ode to my Candle." 

Thus while I wond'ring pause o'er Shakspeare's page, 
I mark in visions of delight the sage, 

High o'er the wrecks of man, who stands sublime ; 
A column in the melancholy waste 
(Its cities humbled and its glories past,) 

Majestic mid the solitude of time. 

Schlegel, a German author, in his eloquent and discri- 
minating Lectures on the Drama, has some admirable and 
judicious remarks on Shakspeare and his plays. " Never," 
says he, as rendered into English, by Black, u perhaps 
was there so comprehensive a talent for characterization 
as Shakspeare. It not only grasps the diversities of rank, 
sex, and age, down to the dawnings of infancy ; not only 
do the king and the beggar, the hero and the pickpocket, 
the sage and the idiot speak and act with equal truth : 
not only does he transport himself to distant ages and 
foreign nations, and portray in the most accurate manner, 
with only a few apparent violations of costume, the spirit 
of the ancient Romans, of the French in their wars with 
d 2 



XXXVIfl REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

the English, of the English themselves during a great part 
of their history, of the southern Europeans (in the serious 
part of many comedies,) the cultivated society of that 
time, and the former rude and barbarous state of the 
north ; his human characters have not only such depth and 
precision that they cannot be arranged under classes, and 
are inexhaustible, even in conception:— no, this Prome- 
theus not merely forms men, he opens the gates of the 
magical world of spirits; calls up the midnight ghost; ex- 
hibits before us his witches amidst their unhallowed mys- 
teries; peoples the air with sportive fairies and sylphs: — 
and these beings existing only in imagination, possess 
such truth and consistency, that even when deformed mon- 
sters like Caliban, he extorts the assenting conviction, if 
there should be such beings they would so conduct them- 
selves. In a word, as he carries wita him the most fruitful 
and daring fancy into the kingdom of nature — on the 
other hand, he carries nature into the regions of fancy, 
lying beyond the confines of reality. We are lost in asto- 
nishment at seeing the extraordinary, the wonderful, and 
the unheard of, in such intimate nearness. " Vol. ii. 131. 

" If Shakspeare deserves our admiration for his charac- 
ters, he is equally deserving of it for the exhibition of pas- 
sion, taking this word in its widest signification, as includ- 
ing every mental condition, every tone of indifference, 
or familiar mirth to the wildest rage and despair. He 
gives us the history of minds; he lays open to us, in a 
single word, a whole series of preceding conditions. His 
passions do not at first stand displayed to us in all their 
height, as is the case with so many tragic poets, who, in 
the language of Lessing, are thorough masters of the legal 
style of love. He paints in a most inimitable manner the 
gradual progress from the first origin. " He gives," as 
Lessing says, " a living picture of all the most minute and 
secret artifices by which a feeling steals into our souls; of 
all the imperceptible advantages which it there gains; of 
all the stratagems by which every other passion is made 
subservient to it, till it becomes the sole tyrant of our de- 
sires and our aversions." Of all poets, perhaps, he alone 
has portrayed the mental diseases, melancholy, delirium, 
lunacy, with such inexpressible, and in every respect defi- 
nite truth, that the physician may enrich his observations 
from them in the same manner as from real cases. 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. XXXIX 

" And yet Johnson has objected to Shakspeare, that his 
pathos is not always natural and free from affectation. 
There are, it is true, passages, though comparatively 
speaking, very few, where his poetry exceeds the bounds 
of true dialogue, where a too soaring imagination, a too 
luxuriant wit, rendered the complete dramatic forgetful- 
ness of himself impossible. Hence an idea has been 
formed of simple and natural pathos, which consists in 
exclamations destitute of imagery, and no wise elevated 
above every -day life. But energetical passions electrify 
the whole of the mental powers, and will consequently, in 
highly favoured natures, express themselves in an inge- 
nious and figurative manner. 

" Besides, the rights of the poetical form have not been 
duly weighed. Shakspeare, who was always sure of his 
object, to move in a sufficiently powerful manner when 
he wished to do so, has occasionally, by indulging in a 
freer play, purposely moderated the impressions when 
too painful, and immediately introduced a musical allevi- 
ation of our sympathy. He had not those rude ideas of 
his art which many moderns seem to have, as if the poet, 
like the clcwn in the proverb, must strike twice on the 
same place, 

" The objection that Shakspeare wounds our feelings by 
the open display of the most disgusting moral odiousness, 
harrows up the mind unmercifully, and tortures even our 
senses by the exhibition of the most insupportable aud 
hateful spectacles, is one of much greater importance. 
He has never, in fact, varnished over wild and blood- 
thirsty passions with a pleasing exterior; never clothed 
crime and want of principle with a false show of great- 
ness of soul: and in that respect he is every way deserving 
of praise. Twice he has portrayed downright villains: 
and the masterly way in which he has contrived to elude 
impressions of too painful a nature, may be seen in Iago 
and Richard the Third. The constant reference to a 
petty and puny race must cripple the boldness of the poet. 
Fortunately for his art, Shakspeare lived in an age ex- 
tremely susceptible of noble and tender impressions, but 
which bad still enough of the firmness inherited from a 
vigorous old time, not to shrink back with dismay from 
every strong and violent picture. 

" We have lived to see tragedies of which the catas- 



xl REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

trophe consists in the swoon of an enamoured princess. 
If Shakspeare falls occasionally into the opposite ex- 
treme, it is a noble error, originating in the fullness of a 
gigantic strength ; and yet this tragical Titan, who storms 
the heavens, and threatens to tear the world from off its 
hinges; who, more terrible than iEschylus, makes our hair 
stand on end, and congeals our blood with horror, pos- 
sessed at the same time the insinuating loveliness of the 
sweetest poetry. He plays with love like a child ; and 
his songs are breathed out like melting sighs. He unites 
in his genius the utmost elevation and the utmost depth; 
and the most foreign and even apparently irreconcileable 
properties subsist in him peaceably together. The world 
of spirits and nature have laid all their treasures at his 
feet. In strength a demi-god, in profundity of view a 
prophet, in all-seeing wisdom a protecting spirit of a 
higher order, he lowers himself to mortals, as if uncon- 
scious of his superiority, and is as open and unassuming as 
a child. 

" Shakspeare's comic talent is equally wonderful with 
that which he has shewn in the pathetic and tragic; it 
stands on an equal elevation, and possesses equal extent 
and profundity. All that I before wished was not to 
admit that the former preponderated. He is highly in- 
ventive in comic situations and motives. It will be hardly 
possible to show whence he has taken any of them : 
whereas in the serious part of his drama, he has generally 
laid hold of something already known. His comic cha- 
racters are equally true, various, and profound with his 
serious. So little is he disposed to caricature that we may 
rather say many of his traits are almost too nice and 
delicate for the stage, that they can only be properly 
seized by a great actor, and fully understood by a very 
acute audience. Not only has he delineated many kinds 
of folly, he has also contrived to exhibit mere stupidity 
in a most diverting and entertaining maimer." Vol. ii. 
p. 143. 

It will be both useful and amusing to close this essay 
with an account of the principal editions of Shakspeare's 
plays and poems. 

The first collection of Shakspeare's plays was published 
in 1G23, with the following title : " Mr. William Shak- 
speare's Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies. Published 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. xli 

according to the true original copies. London : printed 
by Isaac Jaggard and Kd. Blount, 1623." folio. This 
volume was edited by John Hemynge and Henrie Condell, 
and was dedicated to " the most incomparable pair of 
brethren" William, Earl of Pembroke, and Philip, Earl 
of Montgomery. In the title page is a portrait, said to 
be a likeness of the author, with the engraver's name, 
" Martin Droeshout, Sculpsit, London ;" and on the 
opposite page are these lines by Ben. Jonson, addressed 
" To the Reader." 

" This figure that thou here see'st put, 

It was for gentle Shakspeare cut, 

Wherein the graver had a strife 

With nature to outdoo the life; 

O, could he but have drawne his wit 

As well in brasse, as he hath hit 

His face ; the print would then surpass^ 

All that was ever writ on brasse. 

But, since he cannot, Reader looke 

Not on his Picture, but his Booke. B. J. 

The above volume was reprinted in 1808, for Vernor 
and Hood, London ; and much stress was laid on its being 
a rigid and faithful copy : but Professor Porson and Mr. 
Upcott, Librarians of the London Institution, having care- 
fully collated the two, found three hundred and forty- 
seven literal mistakes. The corrected copy is in the valu- 
able library of James Perry, Esq. 

A second edition of Shakspeares plays was published in 
folio, in 1632; a third in 1664, and a fourth in 1685. 
These several impressions are Usually denominated " an- 
dent editions" because published within the first century 
after the death of the poet, and before any comments or 
elucidations were employed to expound the original text. 

Of the editions, which are distinguished by the title 
modern, the earliest was published by Nicholas Rowe in 
1709, in 6 vols. 8vo. This was followed by an edition in 
12mo. by the same editor in 17 14; and to each was pre- 
fixed a biographical memoir of the illustrious bard. In 
1725, Pope, who first introduced critical and emendatory 
notes, published his edition in 6 vols. 4to. with a preface, 
which Johnson characterizes as valuable alike for com- 
position and justness of remark. A second edition by 
the same editor was published in 10 vols. 12rao. with 
additional notes and corrections, in 1728. The suc- 
cessor of Pope was Theobald, who produced a more elabo- 



Xlii REMARKS ON THE LIFE AND 

rate edition in 7 vols. 8vo. in 1733 ; a second, with cor- 
rections and additions, in 8 vols. 12mo. in 1740; and 
another in 1773. Sir Thomas Hammer next turned his 
attention to the illustration of Shakspeare, and in 1744 
gave the world an edition of his plays in 6 vols. 4to. 
JVarburton published an edition in 8 vols. 8vo. in 1747. 
The next commentator on Shakspeare, was the Colossus of 
Literature, Dr. Johnson, who was employed by the book- 
sellers to edite a new edition of our bard's works, which 
appeared in 8 vols. 8vo. 1765. For his labour Johnson 
was paid 480?. ; and besides some notes to each play, he 
wrote a general preface to the whole, which has been 
much extolled by some authors, but is thus very properly 
characterized by Hazlitt. Dr. Johnson's Preface " looks 
like a laborious attempt to bury the characteristic merits 
of his author under a load of cumbrous phraseology, and 
to weigh his excellences and defects in equal scales, 
stuffed full of ' swelling figures, and sonorous epithets.' 
Nor could it well be otherwise: Dr. Johnson's general 
powers of reasoning overlaid his critical susceptibility. 
All his ideas were cast in a given mould, in a set form; 
they were made out by rule and system, by climax, infer- 
ence, and antitheses: — Shakspeare's were the reverse. 
Johnson's understanding dealt only in round numbers: 
the fractions were lost upon him. To him an excess of 
beauty was a fault; for it appeared to him like an ex- 
crescence; and his imagination was dazzled with the 
blaze of light. He was a man of strong common sense 
and practical wisdom, rather than of genius or feeling." 

In 1 7 66, Steevens published an edition of 20 plays, in 
4 vols. 8vo. This was followed, in 1768, by a complete 
edition in 12 vols, crown 8vo. by Mr. Capell; which was 
succeeded by an edition in 10 vols. 8vo. in 1773, by John- 
son and Steevens, conjointly. Of this last, a second edition 
was published in 1778; a third, revised and corrected by 
Isaac Jhcd, in 1785. In the year following was pro- 
duced the first volume of the dramatic works of Shak- 
Bpeare, with notes, by the Rev. Joseph ltann, A.M. which 
work was completed in 6 vols. 8vo. 1794. In 1784, 
was published, in 1 vol. royal 8vo. an edition printed for 
Stockdale, with a very copious index of passages, by the 
Rev. Mr. yfyscough. Belli edition appeared in 1788, in 
20 vols. 18mo.; and in 1790, Malonc's was ushered into 



WRITINGS OF SHAKSPEARE. xliii 

the world, in 10 vols, crown 8vo. In 1793, a fourth edition, 
"revised and augmented," by Mr. Steevens himself in 15 
vols. 8vo. A fifth of the same was published in 1803. A 
sixth edition, with corrections, &c. appeared in 1813, in 
21 volumes. The latter is generally called Reed's edition, 
but Mr. Wm. Harris, the respectable and intelligent libra- 
rian of the Royal Institution, revised and corrected its 
sheets, and added some notes, [See advertisement, vol. i.] 

To particularize all the different editions of Shakspeare's 
plays, would occupy a considerable space ; and to do it 
correctly would be a task of difficulty. Besides a vast 
number produced by London printers, several have been 
published in Scotland, Ireland, also in America, &c. 
His writings have also been translated into different lan- 
guages, and accompanied by comments. Latterly they 
have appeared in the German language by Schlegel, whose 
translation, according to Madame de Stael, procured for 
the author great reputation. 

Many other impressions of our author's plays have been 
published by different booksellers, in different sizes, from 
folio to 32mo. and of various degrees of typographic 
merit. Most of them, however, are unauthenticated re- 
prints * ; but many of them have the popular attraction of 
embellishments. The most splendid of this class was pub- 
lished by Boy dell, in 9 vols, folio, embellished with 100 
engravings, executed by, and after artists of the first emi- 
nence. 

* By this term I include all books which are reprinted without the 
corrections and revisal of an ostensible editor. 



THE 



PART THE FIRST. 



COMEDIES. 



THE 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



&ii>0 mtll tbat ^tttrg smelL 



ACT I. 



ADVICE. 



BE thou blest, Bertram! and succeed thy father 
In manners, as in shape ! thy blood, and virtue, 
Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness 
Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, 
Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy 
Rather in power than use ; and keep thy friend 
Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, 
But never tax'd for speech. 

TOO AMBITIOUS LOVE. 

I am undone ; there is no living, none, 
If Bertram be away. It were all one, 
That I should love a bright particular star, 
And think to wed it, he is so above me : 
In his bright radiance and collateral light 
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. 
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: 
The hind that would be mated by the lion, 
Must die for love. ; Twas pretty, though a plague, 



4 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

To see him every hour; to sit and draw 
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, 
In our heart's table*; heart, too capable 
Of every line and trick f of his sweet favour J : 
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy 
Must sanctify his relics. 

COWARDICE. 

I know him a notorious liar, 
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ; 
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him, 
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones 
Look bleak in the cold wind. 

THE REMEDY OF EVILS GENERALLY IN OURSELVES. 

Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 
Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky 
Gives us free scope ; only, doth backward pull 
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. 

CHARACTER OF A NOBLE COURTIER. 

In his youth 
He had the wit, which I can well observe 
To-day in our young lords ; but they may jest 
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, 
Ere they can hide their levity in honour. 
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness 
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, 
His equal had awak'd them ; and his honour, 
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when 
Exception bid him speak, and at this time, 
His tongue obey'd his hand§: who were below him 
He us'd as creatures of another place : 
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, 

* Helena considers her heart as the tablet on which his re- 
semblance was pourtrayed. 

t Peculiarity of feature. t Countenance. 

§ His is nut for its. 



ALL S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 

Making them proud of his humility. 

Such a man 

Might be a copy to these younger times. 



ACT II. 



HONOUR DUE TO PERSONAL VIRTUE ONLY, NOT TO 
BIRTH. 

From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, 

The place is dignified by the doer's deed : 

Where great additions* swell, and virtue none, 

It is a dropsied honour: good alone 

Is good, without a na'me ; vileness is sof : 

The property by what it is should go, 

Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair; 

In these to nature she's immediate heir; 

And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn, 

Which challenges itself as honour's born, 

And is not like the sire: Honours best thrive, 

When rather from our acts we them derive 

Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a slave, 

Debauch'd on every tomb ; on every grave, 

A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb, 

Where dust and damn'd oblivion, is the tomb 

Of honour'd bones indeed. 



ACT III. 

A maid's honour. 
The honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy 
is so rich as honesty. 

* Titles. 

t Good is good independent of anv worldly distinction, and 
so is vileness vile. 



() BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

SELF ACCUSATION OF TOO GREAT f.OVF. 




" Till I have no wife I have nothing in France" 

Poor lord ! is't I 
That chase thee from thy country, and expose 
Those tender limbs of thine to the event 
Of the none-sparing war? and is it I 
That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou 
Was shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark 
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, 
That ride upon the violent speed of tire, 
Fly with false aim ; move the still-piercing air, 
That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord ! 
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there ; 
Whoever charges on his forward breast, 
I am the caitiff', that do hold him to it: 
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause 
His death was so effected : better 'twere, 
I met the ravin* lion when he roar'd 
With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere 
That all the miseries, which nature owes, 
Were mine at once : No, come thou home, RousiUon, 
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, 

* Ravenous. 



all's well that ends well. 7 

As oft it loses all; I will be begone: 
My being here it is, that holds thee hence: 
Shall I stay here to do't ? no, no, although 
The air of paradise did fan the house, 
And angels offic'd all: I will be gone; 
That pitiful rumour may report my flight, 
To consolate thine ear. 

ADVICE TO YOUflG WOMEN. 

Beware of them, Diana; their promises, entice- 
ments, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, 
are not the things they go under*: many a maid 
hath been seduced by them ; and the misery is, ex- 
ample, that so terribly shows in the wreck of maid- 
enhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but 
that they tire limed with the twigs that threaten 
them. I hope, I need not to advise you further; 
but, I hope, your own grace will keep you where 
you are, though there were no further danger known, 
but the modesty which is so lost. 



ACT IV. 



CUSTOM OF SEDUCERS. 

A Y, so you serve us, 
Till we serve you: but when you have our roses, 
You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, 
And mock us with our bareness. 

CHASTITY. 

Mine honour's such a ring: 
My chastity's the jewel of our house, 
Bequeathed down from many ancestors ; 
Which were the greatest obloquy i'the world 
In me to lose. 

* They are not the things for which their names would 
make them pass. 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



LIFE CHEQUERED. 

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good 
and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our 
faults whipped them not; and our crimes would de- 
spair, if they were not cherished by our virtues. 

A COWARDLY BRAGGART. 

Yet am I thankful : if my heart were great, 
'Twould burst at this: Captain, I'll be no more; 
But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft 
As captain shall: simply the thing I am 
Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart. 
Let him fear this; for it will come to pass, • 
That every braggart shall be found an ass. 
Rust, sword! cool, blushes! and Parolles, live ~) 
Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive! > 
There's place, and means, for every man alive. j 



ACT V. 



AGAINST DELAY. 



Let's take the instant by the forward top ; 
For we are old, and on our quickest decrees 
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time 
Steals ere we can effect them. 

EXCUSE FOR UNREASONABIE DISLIKE. 

At first 
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart 
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue: 
Where the impression of mine eye infixing, 
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, 
Which warp'd the line of every other favour; 
Scorn'd a fair colour, or cxpress'd it stolen ; 
Extended or contracted all proportions, 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 9 

To a most hideous object: Thence it came, 
That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself, 
Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye 
The dust that did offend it. 



m ¥ou %m it 



ACT I. 



MODESTY AND COURAGE IN YOUTH. 

JL beseech you, punish me not with your hard 
thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to 
deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But 
let your fair eyes, and gentle wishes, go with me to 
my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one 
shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one 
dead that is willing to be so r I shall do my friends 
no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world 
no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world 
I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when 
I have made it empty. 

PLAY-FELLOWS. 

We still have slept together, 
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together, 
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, 
Still we went coupled, and inseparable. 

beauty. 
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 

ROSALIND PROPOSING TO WEAR MEN'S CLOTHES* 

Were it not better, 
Because that I am more than common tall, 
That I did suit me all points like a man? 



10 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

A gallant curtle-ax* upon my thigh, 

A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart 

Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will,) 

We'll have a swashing f and a martial outside; 

As many other mannish cowards have, 

That do outface it with their semblances. 



ACT IL 



SOLITUDE PREFERRED TO A COURT LIFE, AND THE 
ADVANTAGES OF ADVERSITY. 

Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, 
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods 
More free from peril than the envious court? 
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 
The seasons' difference ; as the icy fang, 
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; 
Which when it bites and blows upon my body, 
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, 
This is no flattery: these are counsellors 
That feelingly persuade me what I am. 
Sweet are the uses of adversity; 
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; 
And this our life, exempt from public haunt, 
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. 

REFLECTIONS ON THE WOUNDED STAG. 

Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison ? 
And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools, — 
Being native burghers of this desert city, — 
Should, in their own confines, with forked heads j, 
Have their round haunches gor'd. 

• Cutlacr. f Swaggering. $ Barbed arrows. 






AS YOU LIKE IT. 11 

1 Lord. Indeed, my lord, 

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that ; 
And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp 
Than doth your brother that hath banish/ d you. 
To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself, 
Did steal behind him, as he lay along 
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: 
To the which place a poor sequestered stag, 
That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt, 
Did come to languish: and, indeed, my lord, 
The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans, 
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat 
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears 
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose 
In piteous chase : and thus the hairy fool, 
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, 
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, 
Augmenting it with tears. 

Duke S. But what said Jaques I 

Did he not moralize this spectacle? 

1 Lord. O yes, into a thousand similes. 
First, for his weeping in the needless stream ; 
Poor deer, quoth he, thou malist a testament 
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more 
To that which had too much : Then, being alone, 
Left and abandoned of his velvet friends ; 
'Tis right, quoth he ; this misery doth part 
The flux of company : Anon, a careless herd, 
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, 
And never stays to greet him ; Ay, quoth Jaques, 
Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens ; 
'Tisjust the fashion : Wherefore do you look 
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ? 

GRATITUDE IN AN OLD SERVANT. 

But do not so : I have five hundred crowns, 
The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, 
Which I did store, to be my foster nurse, 
When service should in my old limbs lie lame, 



12 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And unregarded age in corners thrown ; 
Take lhat: and He that doth the ravens feed, 
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 
Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ; 
All this I give you: Let me be your servant; 
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: 
For in my youth I never did apply 
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; 
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 
The means of weakness and debility ; 
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
Frosty, but kindly : let me go with you ; 
I'll do the service of a younger man 
In all your business and necessities. 

DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER. 

O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily: 
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly 
That ever love did make thee run into, 
Thou hast not lov'd : 
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, 
Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress* praise, 
Thou hast not lov'd : 
Or if thou hast not broke from company, 
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, 
Thou hast not lov'd. 

DESCRIPTION OF A FOOL, AND HIS MORALIZING ON TIMfC. 

Good-morrow , fool, quoth I : No, sir, quoth he, 
Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune : 
And then be drew a dial from his poke; 
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, 
Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock : 
Thus maxj we see, quoth he, how the world wags : 
'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine; 
And after an hour more, 'tivill be eleven ; 
And so from hour to hour, we ripe, and ripe, 
And then, from hoar to hour, we rot, and rot, 
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear 
The motley fool thus moral on the time, 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 13 

My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, 

That fools should be so deep contemplative ; 

And I did laugh, sans intermission, 

An hour by his dial. — O noble fool ! 

A worthy fool ! Motley's the only wear *. 

DukeS. What fool is this? 

Jaq. O worthy fool ! — One that hath been a courtier ; 
And says, if ladies be but young, and fair, 
They have the gift to know it: and in his brain, — 
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit 
After a voyage, — he hath strange places cramm'd 
With observation, the which he vents 
In mangled forms. 

a fool's liberty of speech. 
I must have liberty 
Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 
To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have : 
And they that are most galled with my folly, 
They most must laugh : And why, sir, must they so? 
The why is plain as way to parish church: 
He, that a fool doth very wisely hit, 
Doth very foolishly, although he smart, 
Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not, 
The wise man's folly is anatomized 
Even by the squandering glances of the fool. 

APOLOGY FOR SATIRE. 

Why, who cries out on pride, 
That can therein tax any private party? 
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, 
Till that the very very means do ebb? 
What woman in the city do I name, 
When that I say, The city-woman bears 
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? 
Who can come in, and say that I mean her, 
When such a one as she, such is her neighbour ? 
Or what is he of basest function, 

* The fool was anciently dressed in a party-coloured coat. 
c 



14 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

That says, his bravery* is not on my cost, 
(Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suits 
His folly to the mettle of my speech ? 
There then ; How, what then ? Let me see wherein 
My tongue hath wrong'd him : if it do him right, 
Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, 
Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies, 
Unclaim'd of any man. 

A TENDER PETITION. 

But what e'er you are, 
That in this desert inaccessible, 
Under the shade of melancholy boughs, 
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time ; 
If ever you have lookd on better days, 
If ever been where bells have knolld to church ; 
If ever sat at any good man's feast; 
If ever from your eye-lids wip'd a tear, 
And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied; 
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be. 

INGRATITUDE. A SONG. 

Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 
Thou art not so unkind f 

As man's ingratitude ; 
Thy tooth is not so keen, 
Because thou art not seen, 

Although thy breath be rude. 
Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly ; 
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: 
Then, heigh, ho, the holly! 

This life is most jolly. 
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
That dost not bite so nigh 

As benefits forgot: 
Though thou the waters warp, 
Thy sting is not so sharp 

As friend rcmember'd \ not. 
Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho! &c. 

* Pinery. + Unnatural. % Remembering. 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 



15 



THE SEVEN AGES. 



All the world's a stage, 
And all the men and women merely players : 
They have their exits and their entrances; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages. 




At first, the Infant, 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms; 




And then, the whining School-Boy, with his satchel, 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school; 



10 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 




And then, the Lover; 
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
Made to his mistress* eye-brow. 




Then, a Soldier ; 
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard. 
Jealous in honour, sudden * and quick in quarrel, 
Seeking the bubble reputation 
Even in the cannon's mouth: 

* Violent. 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 




And then, the Justice ; 
In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd, 
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, 
Full of wise saws and modern * instances, 
And so he plays his part: 




The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slipper'd Pantaloon ; 
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; 
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound: 

* Trite, common. 
C 2 



18 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 




Last scene of all, 
That ends this strange eventful history, 
Is Second Childishness, and mere oblivion ; 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing-. 



ACT III. 

A shepherd's philosophy. 
I know, the more one sickens, the worse at ease 
he is ; and that he that wants money, means, and 
content, is without three good friends: — That the 
property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn : That 
good pasture makes fat sheep: and that a great 
cause of the night is lack of the sun: That he, that 
hath learned no wit by nature nor art, may com- 
plain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kin- 
dred. 

CHARACTER OF AN HONEST AND SIMPLE SHEPHERD. 

Sir, I am a true labourer; I earn that I eat, get 
that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's hap- 
piness; glad of other men's good, content with my 
harm : and the greatest of my pride is, to see my 
ewes graze, and my lambs suck. 






AS YOU LIKE IT. 
A shepherd's life. 



11) 




Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, mas- 
ter Touchstone ? 

Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is 
a good life ; but in respect that it is a shepherd's 
life, it is nought. In respect that it is solitary, I 
like it very well ; but in respect that it is private, it 
is a very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, 
it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the 
court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, 
it fits my humour well ; but as there is no more 
plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. 

DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER. 

A lean cheek ; which you have not : a blue eye, 
and sunken ; which you have not : an unquestion- 
able spirit* ; which you have not: a beard neglected ; 
which you have not: — but I pardon you for that; 
for, simply, your having f in beard is a younger bro- 
ther's revenue : — Then your hose should be ungar- 
tered, your bonnet unhanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, 
your shoe untied, and every thing about you demon- 
strating a careless desolation. But you are no such 



* A spirit averse to conversation. 



+ Estate. 



20 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

man : you are rather point-device * in your accoutre- 
ments ; as loving yourself, than seeming the lover 
of any other. 

REAL PASSION DISSEMBLED. 

Think not I love him, though I ask for him; 
Tis but a peevish f boy : — yet he talks well ; — 
But what care I for words? yet words do well. 
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. 
It is a pretty youth : — not very pretty: — 
But, sure, he's proud ; and yet his pride becomes him : 
He'll make a proper man : The best thing in him 
Is his complexion ; and faster than his tongue 
Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. 
He is not tall ; yet for his years he's tall : 
His leg is but so so ; and yet 'tis well : 
There was a pretty redness in his lip ; 
A little riper and more lusty red 
Than that mix'd in his cheek : 'twas just the difference 
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. 
There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'dhim 
In parcels as I did, would have gone near 
To fall in love with him : but, for my part, 
I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet 
I have more cause to hate him than to love him : 
For what had he to do to chide at me ? 
He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black ; 
And, now I am remernber'd, scorn'd at me: 
I marvel, why I answer'd not again: 
But that's all one ; omittance is no quittance. 



ACT IV, 

THE VARIETIES OF MELANCHOLY. 

I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is 
emulation ; nor the musician's, which is fantastical ; 
nor the courtier's, which is proud ; nor the soldier's, 

* Over-exact. t Silly. 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 21 

which is ambitious ; nor the lawyer's, which is poli- 
tic ; nor the lady's, which is nice * ; nor the lover's, 
which is all these. 

MARRIAGE ALTERS THE TEMPER OF BOTH SEXES. 

Say a day, without the ever: No, no, Orlando: 
men are April when they woo, December when they 
wed : maids are May when they are maids, but the 
sky changes when they are wives. I will be more 
jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his 
hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain; 
more new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my 
desires than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, 
like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when 
you are disposed to be merry ; I will laugh like a 
hyen, and that when thou art inclined to sleep. 

CUPID'S PARENTAGE. 

No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was 
begot of thought f, conceived of spleen, and born of 
madness ; that blind rascally boy, that abuses every 
one's eyes, because his own are out, let him be 
judge, how deep I am in love. 

OLIVER'S DESCRIPTION OF HIS DANGER WHEN 
SLEEPING. 

Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, 
And high top bald with dry antiquity, 
A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, 
Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck 
A green and gilded snake had wreathd itself, 
Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd 
The opening of his mouth ; but suddenly 
Seeing Orlando, it uniink'd itself, 
And with indented glides did slip away 
Into a bush : under which bush's shade 
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, 

* Trifling. t Melancholy. 



22 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, 
When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 'tis 
The royal disposition oT that beast, 
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead. 



ACT V. 



LOVE. 



Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. 

It is to be all made of sighs and tears ; — 

It is to be all made of faith and service ; — 

It is to be all made of fantasy, 

All made of passion, and all made of wishes; 

All adoration, duty, and observance, 

All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, 

All purity, all trial, ail observance. 



aromeiru of <®xxm&> 



ACT II. 



MAN'S PRE-EMINENCE. 



J. here's nothing, situate under heaven's eye, 
But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky: 
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, 
Are their males' subject, and at their controls : 
Men, more divine, the masters of all these, 
Lords of the wide world, and wild watery seas, 
Indued with intellectual sense and souls, 
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, 
Are masters to their females, and their lords: 
Then let your will attend on their accords. 



COMEDY OF ERRORS. 23 

PATIENCE EASIER TAUGHT THAN PRACTISED. 

Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though she pause; 
They can be meek, that have no other cause. 
A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, 
We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry; 
But were we burden'd with like weight of pain, 
As much, or more, we should ourselves complain. 

DEFAMATION. 

I see, the jewel, best enamelled, 
Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides still, 
That others touch, yet often touching will 
Wear gold: and so no man, that hath a name, 
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. 

JEALOUSY. 

Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and frown; 
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects, 
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. 
The time was once, when thou unurg'd would'st vow 
That never words were mu$ic to thine ear, 
That never object pleasing in thine eye, 
That never touch well-welcome to thy hand, 
That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste, 
Unless I spake, look'd, touch'd, or carv'd to thee. 

SLANDER. 

For slander lives upon succession ; 
For ever hous'd, where it once gets possession. 



ACT Y. 

A WOMAN'S JEALOUSY MORE DEADLY THAN POISON. 

The venom clamours of a jealous woman 
Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. 
It seems his sleeps were hinder'dby thy railing: 



24 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And thereof comes it that his head is light. 

Thou say 'st, his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraiding^ ; 

Unquiet meals make ill digestions, 

Thereof the raging fire of fever bred ; 

And what's a fever but a fit of madness ? 

Thou say'st, his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls ; 

Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue, 

But moody and dull melancholy, 

(Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair ;) 

And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop 

Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life ! 

DESCRIPTION OF A EEGGARLY FORTUNE-TELLLK. 

A hungry lean-fac'd villain, 
A mere anatomy, a mountebank, 
A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller ; 
A needy, hollo w-ey'd, sharp-looking wretch, 
A living dead man: this pernicious slave, 
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer; 
And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, 
And with no face, as 'twere outfacing me, 
Cries out, I was possess'd. 

OLD AGE. 

Though now this grained* face of mine be hid 
In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, 
And all the conduits of my blood froze up; 
Yet hath my night of life some memory, 
My wasting lamp some fading glimmer left, 
My dull deaf ears a little use to hear: 
All these old witnesses (I cannot err,) 
Tell me, thou art my son Antipholus. 

* Furrowed, lined. 



$LoW& 3Latmur# Host 



ACT I. 

SELF-DENIAL. 

x5rave conquerors! — for so you are, 
That war against your own affections, 
And the huge armies of the world's desires. 

VANITY OF PLEASURE. 

Why, all delights are vain ; but that most vain, 
Which, with pain purchasd, doth inherit pain. 

ON STUDY. 

Study is like the heaven's glorious sun, 

That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks ; 
Small have continual plodders ever won, 

Save base authority from others' books. 
These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights, 

That give a name to every fixed star, 
Have no more profit of their shining nights, 

Than those that walk, and wot not what they are. 
Too much to know, is, to know nought but fame; 
And every godfather can give a name. 

FROST. 

An envious sneaping * frost, 
That bites the first- born infants of the spring. 

A CONCEITED COURTIER. 

A man in all the world's new fashion planted, 

That hath a mint of phrases in his brain : 
One, whom the music of his own vain tongue 

Doth ravish, like enchanting harmony; 
A man of compliments whom right and wrong 
Have chose as umpire of their mutiny: 
* Nipping. 
D 



26 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

This child of fancy, that Armado hight *, 
For interim to our studies, shall relate, 

In high-born words, the worth of many a knight 
From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate. 



ACT II. 



BEAUTY. 



My beauty, though but mean, 
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise ; 
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, 
Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues. 

A MERRY MAN. 

A merrier man, 
Withiti Ah.e limit of becoming mirth, 
I never spent an hour's talk withal : 
His eye begets occasion for his wit ; 
For every object that the one doth catch, 
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest ; 
With his fair tongue (conceit's expositor,) 
Delivers in such apt and gracious words, 
That aged ears play truant at his tales, 
And younger hearings are quite ravished; 
So sweet and voluble is his discourse. 



ACT III. 

HUMOROUS DESCRIPTION OF LOVE. 

01 — And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been 

love's whip: 
A very beadle to a humorous sigh; 
A critic; nay, a night-watch constable; 
* Called. 



love's labour's lost. 2 

A domineering pedant o'er the boy, 

Than whom no mortal so magnificent! 

This wimpled*, whining, purblind, wayward boy ; 

This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid ; 

Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, 

The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, 

Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, 

Dread prince of plackets f, king of codpieces, 

Sole imperator, and great general 

Of trotting paritors %. — O my little heart ! — 

And I to be a corporal of his field, 

And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop ! 

What? I ! I love ! I sue ! I seek a wife ! 

A woman, that is like a German clock, 

Still a repairing ; ever out of frame ; 

And never going aright, being a watch, 

But being watch'd that it may still go right ? 



ACT IV. 



Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye 

('Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,) 
Persuade my heart to this false perjury? 

Vows, for thee broke, deserve uot punishment. 
A woman I forswore ; but, I will prove, 

Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee : 
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; 

Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me. 
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is: 

Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth doth shine, 
Exhal'st this vapour vow; in thee it is : 

If broken then, it is no fault of mine; 
If by me broke, What fool is not so wise, 
To lose an oath to win a paradise ? 

* Hooded, veiled. t Petticoats. 

$ The officer of the spiritual courts who serve citations. 



28 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE* 

SONG. 

On a day, (alack the day !) 
Love, whose month is ever May, 
Spied a blossom passing fair, 
Playing in the wanton air : 
Through the velvet leaves the wind, 
All unseen, 'gan passage find; 
That the lover, sick to death, 
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. 
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow ; 
Air, would I might triumph so! 
But, alack, my hand is sworn, 
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn: 
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet ; 
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet. 
Do not call it sin in me, 
That I am forsworn for thee : 
Thou for whom even Jove would swear, 
Juno but an Ethiop were ; 
And deny himself for Jove, 
Turning mortal for thy love. 

THE POWER OF LOVE. 

But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, 
Lives not alone immured in the brain; 
But with the motion of all elements, 
Courses as swift as thought in every power ; 
And gives to every power a double power, 
Above their functions and their offices. 
It adds a precious seeing to the eye ; 
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind; 
A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, 
When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd ; 
Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible, 
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails; 
Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste 
For valour, is not love a Ifercules, 
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? 
Subtle as sphinx ; as sweet and musical, 



love's labour's lost. 29 

As bright Apollo's lute, strung with hair ; 

And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods 

Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. 

Never durst poet touch a pen to write, 

Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs ; 

O, then his lines would ravish savage ears, 

And plant in tyrants mild humility. 

women's eyes. 
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: 
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ; 
They are the books, the arts, the academies, 
That show, contain, and nourish all the world ; 
Else, none at all in aught proves excellent. 



ACT V. 



JEST AND JESTER. 

Your task shall be 
With all the fierce * endeavour of your wit. 
To enforce the pained impotent to smile. 

Biron.To move wild laughter in the throat of death ; 
It cannot be ; it is impossible : 
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. 

Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit. 
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, 
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools: 
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear 
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue 
Of him that makes it. 



Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue. 
And lady-smocks all silver-white, 
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, 
Do paint the meadows with delight, 

* Vehement. 
D 2 



30 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

The cuckoo then, on every tree, 
Mocks married men, for thus sings he, 

Cuckoo ; 
Cuckoo, cuckoo, — O word of fear, 
Unpleasing to a married ear! 
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, 

And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, 
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, 

And maidens bleach their summer smocks, 
The cuckoo then, on every tree, 
Mocks married men, for thus sings he, 

Cuckoo ; 
Cuckoo, cuckoo,— O word of fear, 
Unpleasing to a married ear ! 

Winter* When icicles hang by the wall, 

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, 
And Tom bears logs into the hall, 

And milk comes frozen home in pail, 
When blood is nippd, and ways be foul, 
Then nightly sings the staring owl, 

To-who; 
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note, 
While greasy Joan doth keel* the pot. 
When all aloud the wind doth blow, 

And coughing drowns the parson's saw, 
And birds sit brooding in the snow, 

And Marian's nose looks red and raAY, 
When roasted crabs f hiss in the bowl, 
Then nightly sings the staring owl, 

To-who; 
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note, 
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. 

* Cool. t Wild apples. 



Jlltattut* fox Memuve ♦ 



ACT I. 

VIRTUE GIVEN TO BE EXERTED. 

JHeaven doth with us, as we with torches do; 

Not light them for themselves: for if our virtues 

Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike 

As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd , 

But to fine issues* ; nor nature never lends 

The smallest scruple of her excellence, 

But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines 

Herself the glory of a creditor. 

Both thanks and usef. 

THE CONSEQUENCE OF LIBERTY INDULGED. 

As surfeit is the father of much fast, 
So every scope by the immoderate use 
Turns to restraint : Our natures do pursue, 
(Like rats that ravin J down their proper bane), 
A thirsty evil ; and when we driuk we die. 

ELOQUENCE AND BEAUTY. 

In her youth 
There is a prone§ and speechless dialect, 
Such as moves men ; beside, she hath prosperous art 
When she will play with reason and discourse, 
And well she can persuade. 

PARDON THE SANCTION OF WICKEDNESS. 

For we bid this be done, 
When evil deeds have their permissive pass, 
And not the punishment. 

* For high purposes. t Interest. 

£ Voraciously devour. fc Prompt. 



3'2 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

A SEVERE GOVERNOR. 

Lord Angelo is precise ; 
Stands at a guard* with envy ; scarce confesses 
That his blood flows, or that his appetite 
Is more to bread than stone : Hence shall we see, 
Tf power change purpose, what our seemers be. 

RESOLUTION. 

Our doubts are traitors, 
And make us lose the good we oft might win, 
By fearing to attempt. 

THE PRAYERS OF MAIDENS EFFECTUAL. 

Go to lord Angelo, 
And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, 
Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel, 
All their petitions are as freely theirs 
As they themselves would owef them. 



ACT II. 

ALL MEN FRAIL. 



Let but your honour know J, 
(Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue), 
That in the working of your own affections, 
Had time coherd § with place, or place with wishing, 
Or that the resolute acting of your blood 
Could have attained the effect of your own purpose, 
Whether you had not sometime in your life 
Err'd in this point which now you censure him, 
And pull'd the law upon you. 

THE FAUL1S OF OTHERS NO JUSTIFICATION OF OUR OWN. 

'Tis one thin^ to be tempted, Escalus, 
Another thing to fall. I not deny, 

* On Iur defence, t Have. J Examine. $ Suited. 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 33 

The jury, passing on the prisoner's life, 

May, in the sworn twelve, have a thief or two 

Guiltier than him they try : What's open made to jus- 

That justice seizes. What know the laws, [tice, 

That thieves do pass* on thieves? Tis very pregnant f, 

The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it, 

Because we see it ; but what we do not see, 

We tread upon, and never think of it. 

You may not so extenuate his offence, 

For| I have had such faults: but rather tell me, 

When I, that censure § him, do so offend, 

Let mine own judgment pattern out my death, 

And nothing come in partial. 

MERCY FREQUENTLY MISTAKEN. 

Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so ; 
Pardon is still the nurse of second woe. 

MERCY IN GOVERNORS COMMENDED. 

No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, 
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, 
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, 
Become them with one half so good a grace, 
As mercy does. 

THE DUTY OF MUTUAL FORGIVENESS. 

Alas! alas! 
Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; 
And He that might the vantage best have took, 
Found out the remedy : How would you be, 
If he, which is the top of judgment, should 
But judge you as you are? O, think on that; 
And mercy then will breathe within your lips, 
Like man new made. 



* Pass Jadgment t Plain. ;£ Becanse. 

§ Sentence. 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 
JUSTICE. 




Yet show some pity. 
Ang. I show it most of all, when I show justice ; 
For then I pity those I do not know, 
Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall ; 
And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong, 
Lives not to act another. 

THE ABUSE OF AUTHORITY. 

O, it is excellent 
To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous 
To use it like a giant. 
Could great men thunder, 

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, 
For every pelting*, petty officer, [der. — 

\\ ould use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thun- 
fyferciful h<a\ en ! 

Thou rather, with thy sharp and snlphurous bolt, 
Split's! the unwedgeable and gnarledfoak, 
Than the soft myrtle: — O, but man, proud man! 
Drest in a Utile brief authority; 
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, 



* Paltry. 



t Knotted. 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 85 

His glassy essence, — like an angry ape, 
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, 
As make the angels weep : who, with our spleens, 
Would all themselves laugh mortal. 

THE PRIVILEGE OF AUTHORITY. 

Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them; 
But, in the less, foul profanation. 
That in the captain's but a choleric word, 
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. 

HONEST BRIBERY. 

Hark, how I'll bribe you. 

Aug, How! bribe me ? [with you. 

Isab, Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share 

Lucio. You had marr'd all else. 

Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested* gold, 
Or stones, whose rates are either rich or poor, 
As fancy values them: but with true prayers, 
That shall be up at heaven, and enter there, 
Ere sun-rise ; prayers from preserved f souls, 
From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate 
To nothing temporal. 

THE POWER OF VIRTUOUS BEAUTY. 

Is this her fault, or mine ? 
The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most? Ha! 
Not she ; nor doth she tempt: but it is I, 
That lying by the violet, in the sun, 
Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower, 
Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be, 
That modesty may more betray our sense [enough, 
Than woman's lightness ? Having waste ground 
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, 
And pitch our evils there J? O, fy, fy, fy! 
What dost thou ? or what art thou, Angelo ? 

* Attested, stamped. 

t Preserved from the corruption of the world. 

t See 2 Kings, x. 27. 



36 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Dost thou desire her foully, for those things 

That make her good ? O, let her brother live : 

Thieves for their robbery have authority, 

When judges steal themselves. What ? do I love her, 

That I desire to hear her speak again, 

And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on 1 

O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, 

With saints dost bait thy hook ! Most dangerous 

Is that temptation, that doth goad us on 

To sin in loving virtue : never could the strumpet, 

With all her double vigour, art, and nature, 

Once stir my temper \ but this virtuous maid 

Subdues me quite. 

LOVE IN A GRAVE SEVERE GOVERNOR. 

When I would pray and think, I think and pray 
To several subjects: Heaven hath my empty words; 
Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, 
Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth, 
As if I did but only chew his name; 
And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil 
Of my conception : The state, whereon I studied, 
Is like a good thing, being often read, 
Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity, 
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride, 
Could I, with boot*, change for an idle plume, 
Which the air beats for vain. O place! O form ! 
How often dost thou with thy casef, thy habit, 
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls 
To thy false seeming? 

FORNICATION AND MURDER EQUALLED. 

It were as good 
To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen 
A man already made, as to remit 
Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image, 
tii stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy 
Falsely to take away a life true made, 

* Profit. ' + Outside. 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 37 

As to put mettle in restrained means, 
To make a false one. 

LOWLINESS OF MIND. 

Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, 
But graciously to know I am no better. 

Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright, 
When it doth tax itself. 

TEMPORAL FAR BETTER THAN ETERNAL DEATH. 

Better it were, a brother died at once, 
Than that a sister, by redeeming him, 
Should die for ever. 

WOMEN'S FR4ILTY. 

Nay, women are frail too. [selves ; 
Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view them- 
Which are as easy broke as they make forms. 
Women ! — Help heaven ! men their creation mar 
In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail : 
For we are soft as our complexions are, 
And credulous to false prints*. 



ACT III. 



The miserable have no other medicine, 
But only hope. 

REFLECTIONS ON THE VANITY OF LIFE. 

Reason thus with life, — 
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing 
That none but fools would keep : a breath thou art, 
(Servile to all the skiey influences), 
That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, 
Hourly afflict : merely, thou art death's fool ; 

* Impressions. 
E 



33 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAKE. 

For him thou labourist by thy flight to shun, 
And yet run'st toward him still: Thou art not noble ; 
For all the aceommodations that thou bear'st, 
Arenurs'dby baseness: Thou art by no means valiant; 
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork 
Of a poor worm : Thy best of rest is sleep, 
And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st 
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself; 
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains 
That issue out of dust: Happy thou art not: 
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get; 
And what thou hast, forget'st: Thou art not certain; 
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects*, 
After the moon: If thou art rich, thou art poor; 
For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, 
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey, 
And death unloads thee: Friend hast thou none; 
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire, 
The mere effusion of thy proper loins, 
Do curse the gout, serpigo f, and the rheum, [age ; 
For ending thee no sooner: Thou hast nor youth, nor 
But, as it were, an after dinner's sleep, 
Dreaming* on both : for all thy blessed youth 
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms 
Of palsied eld J ; and when thou art old, and rich, 
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, 
To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this, 
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life 
Lie hid more thousand deaths: yet death we fear, 
That makes these odds all even. 

RESOLUTION FROM A SENSE OF HONOUR. 

Why give you me this shame? 
Think you J can a resolution fetch 
From flowery tenderness? If 1 must die, 
I will encounter darkness as a bride, 
And hug it in mine arms. 

, affections. f Leprous eruptions. 

J Old age. 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
THE TERRORS OF DEATH. 




Claud, Death is a fearful thing. 

Isab. And shamed life a hateful. 

Claud. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; 
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot: 
This sensible warm motion to become 
A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit 
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ; 
To be imprison 7 d in the viewless* winds, 
And blown with restless violence about 
The pendent world ; or to be worse than worst 
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts 
Imagine howling! — 'tis too horrible! 
The weariest and most loathed worldly life, 
That age, ach, penury, and imprisonment 
Can lay on nature, is a paradise 
To what we fear of death. 

THE TERRORS OF DEATH MOST IN APPREHENSION. 

O, I do fear thee, Claudio ; and I quake, 
Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain, 
And six or seven winters more respect 

* Invisible. 



40 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ? 
The sense of death is most in apprehension ; 
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, 
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great 
As when a giant dies. 

THE HYPOCRISY OF ANGELO. 

There my father's grave 
Did utter forth a voice ! Yes, thou must die : 
Thou art too noble to conserve a life 
In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy, 
Whose settled visage and deliberate word 
Nips youth i 7 the head, and follies doth enmew*, 
As falcon doth the fowl, — is yet a devil ; 
His filth within being cast, he would appear 
A pond as deep as hell. 

VIRTUE AND GOODNESS. 

Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. 



The evil that thou causest to be done, 
That is thy means to live : Do thou but think 
What His to cram a maw, or clothe a back, 
From such a filthy vice : say to thyself, — 
From their abominable and beastly touches 
I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. 
Canst thou believe thy living is a life 
So stinkingly depending? Go, mend, go, mend. 



ACT IV. 

GREATNESS SUI3JECT TO CENSURE. 

O place and greatness, millions of false eyes! 
Are stuck upon thee ! volumes of report 
Run with these false and most contrarious quests 
Upon thy doings! thousand 'scapesf of wit 
Make thee the father of their idle dream, 
And i ;ick thee in their fancies. 

* Shut up. f Sallies. 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



41 



Mariana discovered sitting, a Boy singing. 




SONG. 

Take, oh take, those lips away, 
That so sweetly were forsworn ; 

And those eyes, the break of day, 
Lights that do mislead the morn : 

But my kisses bring again, 

Seals of love, but seal'd in vain. 

Hide, oh hide, those hills of snow, 
Which thy frozen bosom bears, 

On whose tops the pinks that grow 
Are of those that April wears : 

But my poor heart first set free, 

Bound in those icy chains by thee. 

SOUND SLEEP. 

As fast locked up in sleep, as guiltless labour 
When it lies starkly * in the traveller's bones. 

* Stifiv. 



E 2 



42 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ACT V. 

CHARACTER OF AN ARCH HYPOCRITE. 




O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'st 
There is another comfort than this world, 
That thou neglect me not, with that opinion 
That I am touch'd with madness: make not impos- 
sible 
That which but seems unlike : 'tis not impossible, 
But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground, 
May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute, 
As Angelo ; even so may Angelo, 
In all his dressings*, characts, titles, forms, 
Be an arch-villain: believe it, royal prince, 
If he be less, he's nothing ; but he's more, 
Had I more name for badness. 

* Habits and characters of office. 



Merchant of Venice. 



ACT I. 

MIRTH AND MELANCHOLY. 

JN ow, by two-headed Janus. 
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time : 
Some that will evermore peep through their ej r es, 
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper ; 
And other of such vinegar aspect, 
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, 
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 

WORLDLINESS. 

You have too much respect upon the world : 
They lose it, that do buy it with much care. 

MEDIOCRITY. 

For aught I see, they are as sick, that surfeit with 
too much, as they that starve with nothing : It is no 
mean happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean : 
superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but compe- 
tency lives longer. 

CHEERFULNESS. 

Let me play the fool : 
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; 
And let my liver rather heat with wine, 
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? 
Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice 
By being peevish ? 

AFFECTED GRAVITY. 

I tell thee what, Antonio, — 
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ; — 



44 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

There are a sort of men, whose visages 
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; 
And do a wilful stillness* entertain, 
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; 
As who should say, I am Sir Oracle, 
And, when [ope my lips, let no dog bark ! 
O, my Antonio, I do know of these, 
That therefore onlj r are reputed wise, 
For saying nothing. 

HYPOCRISY. 

Mark you this, Bassanio, 
The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. 
An evil soul, producing holy witness, 
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek ; 
A goodly apple rotten at the heart; 
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! 

LOQUACITY. 

Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more 
than any man in all Venice : His reasons are as two 
grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you 
shall seek all day ere you find them ; and, when you 
have them, they are not worth the search. 

SPECULATION MORE EASY THAN PRACTICE. 

If to do were as easy as to know what were good 
to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's 
cottages, princes' palaces. It is a good divine that 
follows his own instructions : I can easier teach 
twenty what were good to be done, than be one of 
the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain 
may devise laws for the blood ; but a hot temper 
leaps over a cold decree : such a hare is madness the 
youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the 
cripple. 

* OliKtinate silenre. 



MERCHANT OF VENICE, 



45 



THE JEW'S MALICE, 




Bass. This is signior Antonio. [looks I 

Shy. [Aside.] How like a fawning publican he 
I hate him, for he is a Christian : 
But more, for that, in low simplicity, 
He lends out rnoney gratis, and brings down 
The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails, 
Even there where merchants most do congregate, 
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
Which he calls interest : Cursed be my tribe, 
If I forgive him ! 

THE JEW'S EXPOSTULATION. 

Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, 
In the Rialto you have rated me 
About my monies, and my usances*; 
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; 
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe ; 
You call me — misbeliever, cut-throat dog r 
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, 

* Interest, 



46 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And all for use of that which is mine own. 
Well, then, it now appears, you need my help : 
Go to, then ; you come to me, and you say, 
Shyloch, we would have monies : You say so ; 
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, 
And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur 
Over your threshold ; monies is your suit. 
What should I say to you ? Should I not say, 
Hath a dog money ? is it possible, 
A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? or 
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, 
With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness, 

Say this, 

Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ; 
You spurn' d me such a day ; another time 
You calVd me — dog ; and for these courtesies 
Til lend you thus much monies. 

THE WORLD'S TRUE VALUE. 

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; 
A stage, where every man must play a part. 



ACT II. 



GRAVITY ASSUMED. 



Signtor Bassanio, hear me : 
If I do not put on a sober habit, 
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, 
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely ; 
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes 
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, amen; 
Use all the observance of civility, 
Like one well studied in a sad ostent* 
To please his grandam, never trust me more. 

■ Show of staid um\ serious demeanour. 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 47 

THE JEW'S COMMANDS TO HIS DAUGHTER. 

Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum, 
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife, 
Clamber not you up to the casement then, 
Nor thrust your head into the public street, 
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces : 
But stop my house's ears, I mean m} r casements ; 
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
My sober house. 

POSSESSION MORE LANGUID THAN EXPECTATION. 

O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
To seal love's bonds new made, than they are wont, 
To keep obliged faith unforfeited ! 
Who riseth from a feast, 
With that keen appetite that he sits down? 
Where is the horse that doth untread again 
His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
That he did pace them first? All things that are, 
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 
How like a younker, or a prodigal, 
The scarfed* bark puts from her native bay, 
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! 
How like the prodigal doth she return, 
With over-weather' d ribs, and ragged sails, 
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind ! 

PORTIA'S SUITORS. 

From the four corners of the earth they come, 
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint. 
The Hyrcanian deserts, and the vasty wilds 
Of wide Arabia, are as through-fares now, 
For princes to come view fair Portia : 
The wat'ry kingdom, whose ambitious head 
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 
To stop the foreign spirits ; but they come, 
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. 

* Decorated with flags. 



48 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

THE PARTING OF FRIENDS. 

I saw Bassanio and Antonio part ; 
Bassanio told him he would make some speed 
Of his return ; he answer'd — Do not so, 
Slubber not* business for my sake, Bassanio, 
But stay the very riping of the time ; 
And for the Jew's bond, which he hath of me, 
Let it not enter in your mind of love : 
Be merry ; and employ your chief est thoughts 
To courtship, and such fair osteitis \ of love 
As shall conveniently become you there : 
And even there, his eye being big with tears, 
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 
And with affection wondrous sensible 
He wrung Bassanio's hand, and so they parted. 

HONOUR TO BE CONFERRED ON MERIT ONLY. 

For who shall go about 
To cozen fortune, and be honourable 
Without the stamp of merit ! Let none presume 
To wear an undeserved dignity. 
O, that estates, degrees, and offices, 
Were not derived corruptly! and that clear honour 
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer ! 
How many then should cover, that stand bare ? 
How many be commanded, that command? 
How much low peasantry would then be glean'd 
Jrom the true seed of honour? and how much honour 
Pick'd from the chart' and ruin of the times, 
To be new varnishd ? 



ne 



LOVE MESSENGER COMPARED TO AN APRIL DAY. 

I have not seen 
So likely an ambassador of love : 
A day in April never came so sweet, 
To show how costly summer was at hand, 
As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 

* To slubber is to do a thing carelessly. t Shows, tokens. 






MERCHANT OF VENICE. 49 



ACT III. 

THE JEW'S REVENGE. 

If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my re- 
venge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me of 
half a million ; laughed at my losses, mocked at my 
gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, 
cooled my friends, heated mine enemies ; and what's 
his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? 
hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, 
affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt 
with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, 
healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by 
the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? if 
you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do 
we not laugh ? if you poison us, do we not die ? and 
if you wrong us, shall we not revenge ? if we are 
like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. 
If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? 
revenge: If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should 
his sufferance be by Christian example? why, re- 
venge. The villany you teach me, I will execute: 
and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruc- 
tion. 



Let music sound, while he doth make his choice; 
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, 
Fading in music: that the comparison 
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream, 
And wat'ry death-bed for him: He may win; 
And what is music then ! then music is 
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
To a new-crowned monarch : such it is, 
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day, 
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear, 
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes, 

F 



50 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

With no less presence*, but with much more love, 

Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 

The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 

To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice, 

The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, 

With bleared visages, come forth to view 

The issue of the exploit. 

THE DECEIT OF ORNAMENT OR APPEARANCES. 

The world is still deceiv'd with ornament. 
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, 
But, being seasoned with a gracious f voice, 
Obscures the show of evil ? In religion, 
What damned error, but some sober brow 
W T ill bless it, and approve it with a text, 
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? 
There is no vice so simple, but assumes 
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts. 
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
The beards of Hercules, and frowning Mars ; 
Who, inward searched, have livers white as milk? 
And these assume but valour's excrement, 
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty, 
And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight ; 
Which therein works a miracle in nature, 
Making them lightest that wear most of it : 
So are those crisped I snaky golden locks, 
Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, 
Upon supposed fairness, often known 
To be the dowry of a second head, 
The skull that bred them in the sepulchre. 
Thus ornament is but the guiled§ shore 
To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf 
Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word, 
The seeming truth which cunning times put on 
To entrap the wisest. 

* Dignity of mien. t Winning favour. 

X Curled' § Treacherous. 



MERCHANT OF \^E,N1CE. 51 

PORTIA'S PICTURE. 

What find I here? [Opening the leaden casket. 

Fair Portia's counterfeit*? What demi-god 
Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes? 
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
Seem they in motion? Here are severed lips, 
Parted with sugar breath ; so sweet a bar 
Should sunder such sweet friends : Here in her hairs 
The painter plays the spider; and hath woven 
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, 
Faster than gnats in cobwebs: But her eyes, — 
How could he see to do them ? having made one, 
Methinks it should have power to steal both his, 
And leave itself unfurnish'd. 

SUCCESSFUL LOVER COMPARED TO A CONQUEROR. 

Like one of two contending in a prize, 
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes, 
Hearing applause, and universal shout, 
Giddy in spirit, still gazing, in a doubt 
Whether those peals of praise be his or no; 
So, thrice fair lady, stand I. 

HIS THOUGHTS TO THE INARTICULATE JOYS OF A 
CROWD. 

There is such confusion in my powers, 
As, after some oration fairly spoke 
By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
Among the buzzing pleased multitude : 
Where every something, being blent f together, 
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
Express'd, and not express'd. 

IMPLACABLE REVENGE. 

Shy. I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak: 
I'll have my bond : and therefore speak no more, 
I'll not be made a soft and dull-ey'd fool. 

* Likeness, portrait. t Blended. 



52 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
To christian intercessors. 

THE BOASTING OF YOUTH, 

I'll hold thee any wager, 
When we are both accouter'd like young men, 
I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two, 
And wear my dagger with the braver grace ; 
And speak, between the change of man and boy, 
With a reed voice ; and turn two mincing steps 
Into a manly stride; and speak of frays, 
Like a fine bragging youth : and tell quaint lies, 
How honourable ladies sought my love, 
Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 
I could not do with all; then III repent, 
And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them : 
And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell, 
That men shall swear, I have discontinued school 
Above a twelvemonth. 

AFFECTATION IN WORDS. 

O dear discretion, how his words are suited! 
The fool hath planted in his memory 
An army of good words : And I do know 
A many fools, that stand in better place, 
Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
Defy the matter. 

the jew's reason for revenge. 

You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have 
A weight of carrion ilesh, than to receive 
Three thousand ducats: I'll not answer that: 
But, say, it is my humour*: Is it answered? 
V\ hat if my house be troubled with a rat, 
And 1 be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats 
To have it baned? What, are you answered yet? 
Some men there are, love not a gaping pig ; 
Some, that are mad, if they behold a cat; 

* Particular fancy. 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 53 

And others, when the bag-pipe sings i' the nose, 

Cannot contain their urine : For affection*, 

Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood 

Of what it likes or loaths : Now, for your answer ; 

As there is no firm reason to be rendered, 

Why he cannot abide a gaping f pig; 

Why he, a harmless necessary cat; 

Why he, a swollen bagpipe ; but of force 

Must yield to such inevitable shame, 

As to offend, himself being offended ; 

So can I give no reason, nor I will not, 

More than a lodg'd hate, and a certain loathing, 

I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 

A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd? 



The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless'd ; 
It blesseth him that gives; and him that takes : 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown : 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
But mercy is above this scepter'd sway, 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
It is an attribute to God himself; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
When mercy season's justice. 

FORTUNE. 

For herein fortune shows herself more kiml 
Than is her custom : it is still her use, 
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 
To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow, 
An age of poverty. 

* Prejudice. t Crying. 

f2 * 



54 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 





How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the night, 
Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica: Look, how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines* of bright gold ; 
There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold 'st, 
But in his motion like an angel sings, 
Still-quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins: 
Such harmony is in immortal souls; 
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 



1 am never merry; when I hear sweet music. 

Lor* The reason is, your spirits are attentive: 
For do but note a wild and wanton herd, 
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 

* A small Hat di.sb, used in the administration of the Eu- 
oharist. 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 65 

Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, 

Which is the hot condition of their blood ; 

If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 

Or any air of music touch their ears, 

You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 

Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, 

By the sweet power of music : Therefore, the poet 

Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods ; 

Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, 

But music for the time doth change his nature : 

The man that hath no music in himself, 

Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, 

Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; 

The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 

And his affections dark as Erebus : 

Let no such man be trusted. 

A GOOD DEED COMPARED. 

How far that little candle throws his beams ! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 

NOTHING GOOD OUT OF SEASON. 

The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, 
When neither is attended ; and I think, 
The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 
When every goose is cackling, would be thought 
No better a musician than the wren. 
How many things by season seasoned are 
To their right praise, and true perfection ! — 
Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, 
And would not be awak'd ! 

MOONLIGHT NIGHT. 

This night, methinks, is but the daylight sick, 
It looks a little paler ; 'tis a day, 
Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 



jWetrj) W&ibe& of mittowt. 



ACT II. 

falstaff's love letter. 




Ask me no reason why I love yon; for though love 
use reason for his precisian, he admits him not for 
his counsellor: You are not young, no more am I ; 
go to then, there's sympathy: you are merry, so am 
I; Ha! ha! then there's more sympathy: You love 
sack, so do I; Would you desire better sympathy? 
Let it suffice thee. Mistress Page, (at the least, 
it' the love of a soldier can suffice), that I love thee. 
I will not say, pity me, 'tis not a soldier-like phrase; 
hut I say, love me. By me, 

Thine own true knight, 

JJy day or night, 

Or any kind of light, 

With all his might, 

For thee to fight. John Falstaff. 
Mrs. Ford. Why, this is the very same; the very 
hand, the very words: What doth he think of us? 



MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 



0/ 



ACT III. 

FALSTAFF HID IN THE BASKET. 




Mrs. Ford, What shall I do?—- There is a gentle- 
man, my dear friend ; and I fear not mine own 
shame, so much as his peril: I had rather than a 
thousand pound, he were out of the house. 

Mrs. Page, For shame, never stand you had ra- 
ther, and you had rather ; your husband's here at 
hand, bethink you of some conveyance : in the house 
you cannot hide him. — O, how have you deceived 
me! — Look, here is a basket; if he be of any rea- 
sonable stature, he may creep in here; and throw 
foul linen upon him, as if it were going to bucking: 
Or, it is whiting time, send hitn by your two men to 
Datchet Mead. 

Mrs, Ford, He's too big to go in there: What 
shall I do ? 

Enter Falstaff. 

Let me see't, let me see't! O let me see't! I'll in, 
I'll in; — follow your friend's counsel; — I'll in. 

Mrs. Page. What! sir John Falstafi! Are these 
your letters, knight? 



58 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Fal. I love thee, and none but thee; help me 
away: let me creep in here; I'll never — 
[He goes into the basket ; they cover him with foul linen. 

Mrs. Page. Help to cover your master, boy: Call 
your men, mistress Ford : — You dissembling knight! 



ACT V. 

falstaff's humorous description of love. 







Enter Falstaff disguised, with a bucks head on. 
The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the minute 
draws on: Now, the hot-blooded gods assist me! — 
Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa; 
love set on thy horns. — O powerful love! that, in 
some respects, makes a beast a man ; in some other, 
a man a beast. — You were also, Jupiter, a swan, for 
the love of Leda; — O, omnipotent love! how near 
the god drew to the complexion of a goose? — A 
fault done first in the form of a beast; — O Jove, a 
beastly fault; and then another fault in the sem- 
blance of a fowl; think on't, Jove; a foul fault. — 
When gods have hot backs, what shall poor men 
do? Fot me, 1 am here a Windsor stag; and the 
fattest, [ think, i' the forest: — Who comes here? 
inv doe \ 



Mft&nmmtt fltgtrt'g Bryant. 



ACT I. 

A father's authority. 

1 o you your father should be as a god; 
One that compos'd your beauties ; yea, and one 
To whom you are but as a form in wax, 
By him imprinted, and within his power 
To leave the figure, or disfigure it. 

A RECLUSE LIFE. 

Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, 
Know of your youth, examine well your blood, 
Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, 
You can endure the livery of a nun ; 
For aye* to be in shady cloister mew'd, 
To live a barren sister all your life, 
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. 
Thrice blessed they, that master so their blood, 
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage : 
But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, 
Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn, 
Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness. 

TRUE LOVE EVER CROSSED. 

For aught that ever I could read, 
Could ever hear by tale or history, 
The course of true love never did run smooth: 
But, either it was different in blood : 
Or else misgraffed, in respect of years ; 
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends : 
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, 
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it; 
Making it momentany f as a sound, 

* Ever. t Momentary. 



fiO BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream ; 
Brief as the lightning in the collied* night, 
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, 
And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold! 
The jaws of darkness do devour it up: 
So quick bright things come to confusion. 

ASSIGNATION. 

I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow; 
By his best arrow with the golden head ; 
By the simplicity of Venus' doves; 
By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves ; 
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen, 
When the false Trojan under sail was seen; 
By all the vows that ever men have broke, 
In number more than ever women spoke; — 
In that same place thou hast appointed me, 
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. 

THE MOON. 

When Phoebe doth behold 
Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass, 
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass. 



Things base and vile, holding no quantity, 
Love can transpose to form and dignity. 
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind ; 
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind: 
Nor hath loves mind of any judgment taste ; 
\\ ings, and no eyes, figure unhecdy haste: 
And therefore is love said to be a child, 
Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd. 
As waggish boys in gamef themselves forswear, 
So the boy love is perjur'd every where. 

PUCK. 

1 am that merry wanderer of the night, 
F jest to Oberon, and make him smile, 
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, 
* Black. t Sport. 



A midsummer-night's dream. 61 

Neighing in likeness of a silly foal : 

And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl, 

In very likeness of a roasted crab*; 

And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, 

And on her wither d dew-lap pour the ale. 

The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, 

Sometime for three- foot stool mistaketh me ; 

Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, 

And tailor cries, and falls into a cough ; 

And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe ; 

And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear 

A merrier hour was never wasted there. 

FAIRY JEALOUSY, AND THE EFFECTS OF IT. 

These are the forgeries of jealousy; 
And never, since the middle summer's spring, 
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, 
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook, 
Or on the beached m argent of the sea, 
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, 
But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. 
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, 
As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea 
Contagious fogs ; which falling in the land, 
Have every pelting f river made so proud, 
That they have overborne their continents J ; 
The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain,' 
The ploughman lost his sweat; and the green corn 
Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard: 
The fold stands empty in the drowned field, 
And crows are fatted with the murrain flock ; 
The nine men's morris § is filled up with mud ; 
And the quaint mazes in the wanton green, 
For lack of tread are undistinguishable ; 
The human mortals want their winter here; 
No night is now with hymn or carol bless'd: — 
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, 
Pale in her anger, washes all the air, 

* Wild apple. t Petty. 

% Banks which contain theni. § A game played by boys. 



C>2 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

That rheumatic diseases do abound : 

And thorough this distemperature, we see 

The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts 

Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose ; 

And on old Hyems' chin, and icy crown, 

An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds 

Is, as in mockery, set : The spring, the summer, 

The childing* autumn, angry winter, change 

Their wonted liveries ; and the 'mazed world, 

By their iucreasef, now knows not which is which. 

LOVE IN IDLENESS. 

Thou remember'st 
Since once I sat upon a promontory, 
And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, 
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, 
That the rude sea grew civil at her song; 
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, 
To hear the sea-maid's music. 
That very time I saw, (but thou could'st not,) 
Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
Cupid all-arm'd : a certain aim he took 
At a fair vestal, throned by the west; 
And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow, 
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts: 
But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft 
Quench'd in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon ; 
And the imperial vot'ress passed on, 
In maiden meditation, fancy free J. 
Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell : 
It fell upon a little western flower,— 
Before, milk-white ; now purple with love's wound, — 
And maidens call it, love-in-idleness. 

A FAIRY BANK. 

I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, 
Where ox-lips§ and the nodding violet grows; 

* Autumn producing flowers unseasonably. + Produce. 
| Exempt from love. § The greater cowslip. 






A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 

Quite over-canopied with lush * woodbine, 
With sweet inusk-roses, and with eglantine : 
There sleeps Titania, some time of the night, 
LulPd in these flowers with dances and delight. 



ACT III. 



FAIP.Y COURTESIES. 



Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; 
Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes ; 
Feed him with apricocks and dewberries f, 
With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries ; 
The honey bags steal from the humble bees, 
And, for night tapers, crop their waxen thighs, 
And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, 
To have my love to bed, and to arise ; 
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies. 
To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes : 
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. 

FEMALE FRIENDSHIP. 

Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd, 
The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, 
When we have chid the hasty-footed time 
For parting us, — O, and is all forgot? 
All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? 
We, Herinia, like two artificial J gods, 
Have with our neelds§ created both one flower, 
Both on oue sampler, sitting on one cushion, 
Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; 
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, 
Had been incorporate. So we grew together, 
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted ; 
But yet a union in partition, 

* Vigorous. t Gooseberries. 

$ Ingenious. § Needles, 



64 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : 

So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; 

Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, 

Due but to one, and crowned with one crest. 

And will you rent our ancient love asunder, 

To join with men in scorning your poor friend ? 

It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly : 

Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it; 

Though I alone do feel the injury. 

DAYBREAK. 

Night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, 
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; 
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there, 
Troop home to church-yards. 



ACT IV. 



DEW IN FLOWERS. 

And that same dew, which sometime on the buds 
Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls, 
Stood now within the pretty flow'rets' eyes, 
Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail. 

HUNTING. 

We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top, 
And mark the musical confusion 
Of hounds and echo in conjunction. 

Hip, I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once, 
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear 
With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear 
Such gallant chiding*; for, besides the groves, 
The skies, the fountains, every region near 
Seetn'd all one mutual cry: I never heard 
So musical a discoid, such sweet thunder. 
* Sound. 



A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM 65 



My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, 
Soflew'd*, so sanded; and their heads are hung 
With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; 
Crook-knee'd, and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls, 
Slow in pursuit, but matched in mouth like bells, 
Each under each. A cry more tuneable 
Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn. 



ACT V. 

THE POWER OF IMAGINATION. 

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, 

Are of imagination all compact f: 

One sees more devils than vast hell can hold ; 

That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, 

Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: 

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to hea- 

And, as imagination bodies forth [ven; 

The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 

Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 

A local habitation, and a name. 

SIMPLICITY AND DUTY. 

For never any thing can be amiss, 
When simpleness and duty tender it. 

Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharg'd. 
And duty in his service perishing. 

MODEST DUTY ALWAYS ACCEPTABLE. 

Where I have come, great clerks have purposed 
To greet me with premeditated welcomes ; 
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, 

* The flews are the large chaps of a hound. 
t Are made of mere imagination. 
g2 



66 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAKE. 

Make periods in the midst of sentences, 
Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears, 
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off, 
Not paying me a welcome: Trust me, sweet, 
Out of this silence, yet, I pick' d a welcome ; 
And in the modesty of fearful duty 
I read as much as from the rattling* tongue 
Of saucy and audacious eloquence. 

TIME. 

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. 

NIGHT. 

Now the hungry lion roars, 

And the wolf behowls the moon ; 
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, 

All with weary task fordone *. 
Now the wasted brands do glow, 

Whilst the scritch-owl, scritchingloud, 
Puts the wretch, that lies in woe, 

In remembrance of a shroud. 
Now it is the time of night, 

That the graves, all gaping wide. 
Every one lets forth his sprite, 

In the church-way paths to glide. 

* Overcome. 



Mutt) ^iro aiwut ^totlnns* 



ACT I. 

PEACE INSPIRES LOVE. 




_fc>UT now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts 
Have left their places vacant, in their rooms 
Come thronging soft and delicate desires, 
All prompting me how fair young Hero is. 

D. Pedro, Thou wilt be like a lover presently, 
And tire the hearer with a book of words : 
If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it ; 
And I will break with her, and with her father, 
And thou shalt have her : Was 7 t not to this end, 
That thou began'st to twist so fine a story ? 

Claud. How sweetly do you minister to love, 
That know love's grief by his complexion ! 
But lest my liking might too sudden seem, 
I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. 

D. Pedro. What need the bridge much broader 
than the flood ? 
The fairest grant is the necessity: 
Look, what will serve, is fit : 'tis once *, thou lov'st ; 
And I will fit thee with the remedy. 

* Once for all. 



68 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

I know, we shall have revelling: to-night ; 
I will assume thy part in some disguise, 
And tell fair Hero I am Claudio; 
And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart. 



ACT II. 



FRIENDSHIP IN LOVE. 

Friendship is constant in all other things, 

Save in the office and affairs of love : 

Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues ; 

Let every eye negotiate for itself, 

And trust no agent : for beauty is a witch, 

Against whose charms faith melteth into blood*. 

MERIT ALWAYS MODEST. 

It is the witness still of excellency, 
To put a strange face on his own perfection. 

BENEDICT THE BACHELOR'S RECANTATION. 

This can be no trick: The conference was sadly 
borne f. — They have the truth of this from Hero. 
They seem to pity the lady ; it seems, her affections 
have their full bent. Love me ! why it must be re- 
quited. I hear how I am censured : they say, I will 
bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come 
from her ; they say too, that she will rather die than 
give any sign of affection. — I did never think to 
marry: — I must not seem proud: — Happy are they 
that hear their detractions, and can put them to 
mending. They say, the lady is fair ; 'tis a truth, I 
can bear them witness: and virtuous; — 'tis so, lean- 
not reprove it; and wise, but for loving me: — By 
my troth, it is no addition to her wit ; nor no great 
argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love 
with her. — I may chance have some odd quirks and 
remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed 
so long against marriage : — But doth not the appe- 
* Passion. t Seriously carried on. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING*. 69 

tile alter? A man loves the meat in his youth, that 
he cannot endure in his age: Shall quips, and sen- 
tences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a 
man from the career of his humour? No: The 
world must be peopled. When I said, I would die 
a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were 
married. — Here comes Beatrice : By this day, she's 
a fair lady : I do spy some marks of love in her. 



ACT. III. 



FAVOURITES COMPARED TO HONEYSUCKLES. 

Bid her steal into the pleached bower, 
Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun, 
Forbid the sun to enter; — like favourites, 
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride 
Against that power that bred it. 

A SCORNFUL AND SATYRICAL BEAUTY. 

Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, 
Misprising * what they look on ; and her wit 
Values itself so highly, that to her 
All matter else seems weak : she cannot love, 
Nor take no shape nor project of affection, 
She is so self-endeared. 
I never yet saw man, 

How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd 
But she would spell him backward : if fair-faced, 
She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister ; 
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antic, 
Made a foul blot : if tall, a lance ill-headed; 
If low, an agate very vilely cut : 
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all wind : 
If silent, why a block moved with none. 
So turns she every man the wrong side out ; 
And never gives to truth and virtue, that 
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. 
* Undervaluing. 



70 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ACT IV. 

DISSIMULATION. 

O, what authority and show of truth 

Can cunning sin cover itself withal! 

Comes not that blood as modest evidence, 

To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, 

All you that see her, that she were a maid, 

By these exterior shows? But she is none : 

She knows the heat of a luxurious* bed: 

Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. 

A FATHER LAMENTING HIS DAUGHTERS INFAMY. 

Griev'd I, I had but one? 
Chid I for that at frugal nature's framef? 
O, one too much by thee ! Why had I one? 
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes ? 
Why had I not, with charitable hand, 
Took up a beggar's issue at my gates; 
Who smirched X thus, and mired with infamy, 
I might have said, No part of it is mine, 
This shame derives itself from unknown loins ? 
But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, 
And mine that I was proud on ; mine so much, 
That I myself was to myself not mine, 
Valuing of her; why, she — O, she is fallen 
Into a pit of ink ! that the wide sea 
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again. 

INNOCENCE DISCOVERED BY THE COUNTENANCE. 

I have mark'd 
A thousand blushing apparitions start 
Into hrr face; a thousand innocent shames 
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes; 
And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire, 
To barn the errors that these princes hold 
Against her maiden truth. 

* Lacivious. f Disposition of things. | Sallied. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 71 



RESOLUTION. 

I know not: If they speak but truth of her, 
These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, 
The proudest of them shall well hear of it. 
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, 
Nor age so eat up my invention, 
Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, 
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, 
But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind, 
Both strength of limb, and policy of mind, 
Ability in means, and choice of friends. 
To quit me of them throughly. 

THE DESIRE OF BELOVED OBJECTS HEIGHTENED BY 
THEIR LOSS. 

For it so falls out, 
That what we have we prize not to the worth, 
Whiles* we enjoy it ; but being lack'd and lost, 
Why, then we rackf the value ; then we find 
The virtue that possession would not show us 
Whiles it was ours : — So will it fare with Claudio; 
When he shall hear she died upon J his words, 
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 
Into his study of imagination; 
And every lonely organ of her life 
Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, 
More moving-delicate, and full of life, 
Into the eye and prospect of his soul, 
Than when she liv'd indeed. 

TALKING BRAGGARTS. 

But manhood is melted into courtesies §, valour 
into compliment, and men are only turned into 
tongue, and trim ones too : he is now as valiant as 
Hercules, that only tells a lie, and swears it. 

* While. t Orcr-rate. + By. § Ceremony. 



72 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ACT V. 

COUNSEL OF NO WEIGHT IN MISERY. 

I pray thee, cease thy counsel, 

Which falls into mine ears as profitless 

As water in a sieve : give not me counsel ; 

Nor let no comforter delight mine ear, 

But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. 

Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child, 

Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine, 

And bid him speak of patience; 

Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, 

And let it answer every strain for strain; 

As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, 

In every lineament, branch, shape, and form: 

If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard; 

Cry — sorrow', wag! and hem, when he should groan; 

Patch grief with proverbs ; make misfortune drunk 

With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, 

And I of him will gather patience. 

But there is no such man: For, brother, men 

Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief 

Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, 

Their counsel turns to passion, which before 

Would give preceptial medicine to rage, 

Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, 

Charm ach with air, and agony with words : 

No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience 

To those that wring under the load of sorrow : 

But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, 

To be so moral, when he shall endure 

The like himself: therefore give me no counsel, 

My griefs cry louder than advertisement. 

SATIRE ON THE STOIC PHILOSOPHERS. 

I pray thee, peace : I will be flesh and blood ; 
For there was never yet philosopher, 
That could endure the tooth-ach patiently ; 
However they have writ the style of gods, 
And made a pish at chance and sufferance. 



■ 



TAMING OF THE SHREW. 73 

TALKING BRAGGARTS. 

Hold you content: What, man! I know them, yea, 
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple ; 
Scambling, out-facing, fasbion-mong ring boys, 
That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander, 
Go anticly, and show outward hideousness, 
And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, 
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst, 
And this is all. 

VILLAIN TO BE NOTED. 

Which is the villain ? Let me see his eyes ; 
That when I note another man like him, 
I may avoid him. 

DAYBREAK. 

The wolves have prey'd ; and look, the gentle day 
Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about 
Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray. 



mntinq of tfie gftveto. 



INDUCTION. 

HOUNDS. 

J. hy hounds shall make the welkin answer them, 
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. 

PAINTING. 

Dost thou love pictures ? we will fetch thee straight 
Adonis, painted by a running brook: 
And Cytherea all in sedges hid; 
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, 
Even as the waving sedges play with wind. 

H 



74 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. , 

ACT I. 

woman's tongue. 
Think you, a little din can daunt mine ears? 
Have I not in my time heard lions roar? 
Have I not heard the sea, puffd up with winds, 
Rage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat? 
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field, 
And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? 
Have I not in a pitched battle heard 
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang? 
And do you tell me of a woman's tongue; 
That gives not half so great a blow to the ear, 
As will a chesnut in a farmer's fire? 



ACT III. 

A MAD WEDDING. 

When the priest 
Should ask— if Katherine should be his wife, 
Ay, by gogs-wouns, quoth he ; and swore so loud, 
That, all amaz'd, the priest let fall the book : 
And, as he stoop'd again to take it up, 
The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff, 
That down fell priest and book, and book and priest ; 
Now tale them up, quoth he, if any list. 

Tra. What said the wench, when he arose again ? 

Gre. Trembled and shook; for why, he stamped 
As if the vicar meant to cozen him. [and swore, 
But after many ceremonies done, 
He calls for wine: — A health, quoth he; as if 
He had been aboard, carousing to his mates 
After a storm : — Quaft'd off the muscadel*, 
And threw the sops all in the sexton's face ! 
Having no other reason, — 
But that his beard grew thin and hungerly, 

* It was tbe custom for the company present to drink wine 
immediately after the marriage ceremony. 



TAMING OF THE SHREW. 75 

And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking. 
This done, he took the bride about the neck ; 
And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack, 
That, at the parting, all the church did echo. 



ACT IV. 

THE MIND ALONE VALUABLE. 

For r tis the mind that makes the body rich; 
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, 
So honour peereth * in the meanest habit. 
What, is the jay more precious than the lark, 
Because his feathers are more beautiful? 
Or is the adder better than the eel, 
Because his painted skin contents the eye ? 
O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse 
For this poor furniture, and mean array. 



ACT V. 

THE WIFE'S DUTY TO HER HUSBAND. 

Fie, fie ! unknit that threatening unkind brow ; 

And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, 

To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor : 

It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads ; 

Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds; 

And in no sense is meet, or amiable. 

A woman mov'd, is like a fountain troubled, 

Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; 

And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty 

Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it. 

Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, 

Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, 

And for thy maintenance : commits his body 

To painful labour, both by sea and land ; 

To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, 

* Appeareth. 



76 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe ; 
And craves no other tribute at thy hands, 
But love, fair looks, and true obedience ; — 
Too little payment for so great a debt. 
Such duty as the subject owes the prince, 
Even such a woman oweth to her husband: 
And, when she's fro ward, peevish, sullen, sour, 
And not obedient to his honest will, 
What is she, but a foul contending rebel, 
And graceless traitor to her loving lord? — 
I am asliam'd, that women are so simple 
To offer war, where they should kneel for peace ; 
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, 
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. 
Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth, 
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world; 
But that our soft conditions * and our hearts, 
Should well agree with our external parts? 



rrmprst 



ACT I. 

AN USURPING SUBSTITUTE COMPARED TO JOY. 

JL hat now he was 
The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk, 
And suck'd my verdure out on't. 

ARIEL'S DESCRIPTION OF MANAGING THE STORM. 

I boarded the king's ship ; now on the beak, 
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, 
I flam'd amazement : Sometimes, I'd divide, 
And burn in many places ; on the top-mast, 
The yards, and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, 
Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the precursors, 
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary 
* Gentle tempers. 



TEMPEST. 



And sight-out-running were not : The fire, and cracks 
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune 
Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble, 
Yea, his dread trident shake.- 



Not a soul, 



But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd 
Some tricks of desperation : All, but mariners, 
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, 
Then all a-fire with me : the king's son, Ferdinand, 
With hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair,) 
Was the first man that leap'd ; cried, Hell is empty. 
And all the devils are here. 

PROSPERO REPROVING ARTE!,. 

Thou dost ; and think'st 
It much, to tread the ooze of the salt deep; 
To run upon the sharp wind of the north ; 
To do me business in the veins o'the earth, 
When it is bak'd with frost. 

CALIBAN'S CURSES. 

Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd 
With raven's feather from unwholesome fen, 
Drop on you both ! a south-west blow on ye, 
And blister you all o'er ! 

Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have 
cramps, 
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up ; urchins* 
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, 
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd 
As thick as honeycombs, each pinch more stinging 
Than bees that made them. 

Cal. I must eat my dinner. 
This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, 
Which thou tak'st from me. When thou earnest first, 
Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me ; wouldst 

give me 
Water with berries in't; and teach me how 
To name the bigger light, and how the less, 
That burn by day and night : and then I lov'd thee, 
* Fairies, 

h2 



78 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, 
The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and fer- 
Cursed be I that did so! — All the charms [tile; 

Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! 
Fori am all the subjects that you have, 
Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me 
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me 
The rest of the island. 

CALIBAN'S EXULTATION AFTER PROSPERO TELLS HIM 
HE SOUGHT TO VIOLATE THE HONOUR OF HIS CHILD. 

O ho, O ho ! — 'would it had been done! 
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else 
This isle with Calibans. 

MUSIC. 

Where should this music be? i' the air, or the earth? 
It sounds no more:— and sure, it waits upon 
Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank, 
Weeping" again the king my father's wreck, 
This music crept by me upon the waters; 
Allaying both their lary, and my passion, 
With its sweet air. 

ARIEL'S SONG. 

Full fathom ^ve thy father lies; 
Of his bones are coral made ; 
Those are pearls, that were his eyes: 

Nothing of him that doth fade, 
But doth suffer a sea-change 
Into something rich and strange. 
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: 
Hark ! now I hear them, — ding-dong, bell. 
a lover's speech. 
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. 
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, 
The wreck of all my friends, or this man's threats, 
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, 
Might 1 but through my prison once a day 
Behold this maid : all corners else o' the earth 
Let liberty make use of; space enough 
Have I in such a prison. 



TEMPEST. 79 

ACT II. 

DESCRIPTION OF FERDINAND^ SWIMMING ASHORE. 

I saw him beat the surges under him, 

And ride upon their backs ; he trod the water, 

Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted 

The surge most swoln that met him : his bold head 

'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd 

Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke 

To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd, 

As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt, 

He came alive to land. 

SLEEP. 

Do not omit the heavy offer of it : 
It seldom visits sorrow ; when it doth, 
It is a comforter. 

A FINE APOSIOPESIS. 

They fell together all, as by consent; 
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, 
Worthy Sebastian ?— O, what might? — No more: — 
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face, 
What thou shouldstbe: the occasion speaks thee: and 
My strong imagination sees a crown 
Dropping upon thy head. 

CALIBAN'S CURSES. 

All the infections that the sun sucks up 
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him 
Bj r inch-meal a disease ! His spirits hear me, 
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, 
Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire, 
Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark 
Out of my way, unless he bid them ; but 
For every trifle are they set upon me : 
Sometime like apes, that moe * and chatter at me, 
And after, bite me ; then like hedge-hogs, which 

* Make mouths. 



80 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount 
Their pricks at my foot-fall ; sometime am I 
All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues, 
Do hiss me into madness : — Lo! now! lo! 
Here comes a spirit of his ; and to torment me, 
For bringing wood in slowly: I'll fall flat; 
Perchance, he will not mind me. 

SATIRE ON ENGLISH CURIOSITY. 

Were I in England now (as once I was), and had 
but this fish painted, not a holida} r -fool there but 
would give a piece of silver: there would this mon- 
ster make a man ; any strange beast there makes a 
man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a 
lame beggar, they w r ill lay out ten to see a dead In- 
dian. 

CALIBANS PROMISES. 

Ill show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee 
berries ; 
I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough. 
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve! 
I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, 
Thou wondrous man. 

I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs grow; 
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts ; 
Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how 
To snare the nimble marmozet; I'll bring thee 
To clustering filberds, and sometimes Til get thee 
Young sea-mells* from the rock. 



ACT III. 



A GUILTY CONSCIENCE. 

O, it is monstrous ! monstrous ! 
Methought, the billows spoke and told me of it; 
The winds did sing it to me ; and the thunder. 
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd 
The name of Prosper. 

* Seagulls. 



TEMPEST. 81 



FERDINAND. 




There be some sports are painful ; but their labour 
Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness 
Are nobly undergone ; and most poor matters 
Point to rich ends. This my mean task would be 
As heavy to me, as 'tis odious ; but 
The mistress, which I serve, quickens what's dead, 
And makes my labours pleasures : O, she is 
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed; 
And he's composed of harshness. I must remove 
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up, 
Upon a sore injunction: My sweet mistress 
Weeps when she sees me work; and says, such base- 
Had ne'er like executor. I forget : [ness 
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours ; 
Most busy-less, when I do it. 

Miter Miranda ; and Prospero at a distance. 

Mir a. Alas, now ! pray you, 
Work not so hard : I would, the lightning had 
Burnt up those logs, that you are enjoin'd to pile ! 
Pray, set it down, and rest you : when this burns, 
'Twill weep for having wearied you : My father 



82 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAKE. 

Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself; 
He's safe for these three hours. 

Fer. O most dear mistress, 

The sun will set before I shall discharge 
What I must strive, to do. 

Mira. If you'll sit down, 

I'll bear your logs the while: Pray give me that; 
I'll carry it to the pile. 

Fer. No, precious creature : 

I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, 
Than you should such dishonour undergo, 
While I sit lazy by. 

Mira. It would become me 

As well as it does you : and I should do it 
With much more ease ; for my good will is to it, 
And yours against. 

Pro. Poor worm! thou art infected ; 

This visitation shows it. 

Mira. You look wearily. 

Fer. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with me, 
When you are by at night. I do beseech you, 
(Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers,) 
What is your name? 

Mira. Miranda : — O my father, 

I have broke your hest* to say so! 

Fer. Admir'd Miranda 

Indeed the top of admiration : worth 
What's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady 
I have ey'd with best regard ; and many a time 
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage 
Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues 
Have I lik'd several women ; never any 
With so full soul, but some defect in her 
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd f, 
And put it to the foil : But you, O you, 
So perfect and so peerless, are created 
Of every creature's best. 

Mira. I do not know 

One of my sex ; no woman's face remember, 
* Command. t Own'd. 



TEMPEST. 8a 

Save, from ray glass, mine own; nor have I seen. 
More that I may call men, than you, good friend, 
And my dear father : how features are abroad, 
I am skill-less of; but, by my modesty, 
(The jewel in my dower), I would not wish 
Any companion in the world but you ; 
Nor can imagination form a shape, 
Besides yourself, to like of: but I prattle 
Something too wildly, and my father's precepts 
Therein forget. 

Fer. I am, in my condition, 

A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king; 
(I would, not so !) and would no more endure 
This wooden slavery, than I would suffer 
The flesh-fly blow my mouth. — Hear my soul speak ;-— 
The very instant that I saw you, did 
My heart fly to your service ; there resides, 
To make me slave to it ; and, for your sake, 
Am I this patient log-man. 

Mir a. Do you love me ? 

Fer. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound, 
And crown what I profess with kind event, 
If I speak true ; if hollowly, invert 
What best is boded me, to mischief.' I, 
Beyond ail limit of what else* i' the world, 
Do love, prize, honour you. 

Mir a. I am a fool, 

To weep at what I am glad of. 

Pro. Fair encounter 

Of two most rare affections ! Heavens rain grace 
On that which breeds between them ! 

Fer. Wherefore weep you? 

Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer 
What I desire to give; and much less take, 
What I shall die to want: But this is trifling ; 
And all the more it seeks to hide itself, 
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning. 
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence 1 
I am your wife, if you will marry me ; 
* Whatsoever. 



84 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow 
You may deny me : but I'll be your servant, 
Whether you will or no. 

Fer. My mistress, dearest, 

And I thus humble ever. 

Mira. My husband, then ? 

Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing 
As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand. 

Mira. And mine, with my heart in't: And now 
farewell, 
Till half an hour hence. 

Fer. A thousand! thousand! 



ACT IV. 



CONTINENCE BEFORE MARRIAGE. 

If thou dost break her virgin knot before 
All sanctimonious ceremonies may 
With full and holy rite be minister'd, 
No sweet aspersion* shall the heavens let fall 
To raake this contract grow ; but barren hate, 
Sour-ey'd disdain, and discord, shall bestrew 
The union of your bed with weeds so loathly, 
That you shall hate it both. 

A LOVER'S PROTESTATION. 

As I hope 
For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, 
With such love as 'tis now ; the murkiest den, 
The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion, 
Our worser genius can, shall never melt 
Mine honour into lust; to take away 
The edge of that day's celebration, 
When I shall think, or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd. 
Or night kept chain'd below. 

* Sprinkling. 



TEMPEST. 85 



PASSION TOO STRONG FOR VOWS. 

Look, thou be true; do not give dalliance 
Too much the rein ; the strongest oaths are straw 
To the fire i' the blood : be more abstemious, 
Or else, good night, your vow! 

VANITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 

These our actors, 
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and 
Are melted into air, into thin air : 
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, 
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherit shall dissolve ; 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded *, 
Leave not a rackf behind : We are such stuff 
As dreams are made of, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep. 

DRUNKARDS ENCHANTED BY ARIEL. 

I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; 
So full of valour, that they smote the air 
For breathing in their faces ; beat the ground 
For kissing of their feet : yet always bending 
Towards their project: Then I beat my tabor, 
At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears. 
Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses, 
As they smelt music ; so I charm'd their ears, 
That, calf-like, they my lowing followed, through 
Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, prickling goss,and thorns. 
Which enter'd their frail shins: at last I left them 
I' the filthy mantled pool beyond your cell, 
There dancing up to the chins. 

* Vanished. 

t A body of clouds in motion; bat it is most probable that 
the author wrote track. 



68 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



LIGHTNESS OF FOOT. 

Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not 
Hear a foot fall. 



ACT V. 



His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops 
From eaves* of reeds. 

COMPASSION AND CLEMENCY SUPERIOR TO REVENGE. 

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling 
Of their afflictions? and shall not myself, 
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, 
Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art? 
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the 

quick, 
Yet, with my nobler reason, 'gainst my fury 
Do I take part: the rarer action is 
In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent, 
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend 
Not a frown further. 

FAIRIES AND MAGIC. 

Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes,and groves; 
And ye, that on the sands with printless foot 
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him, 
When he comes back; you demy-puppets, that 
By moonshine do the green-sour ringlets make, 
Whereof the ewe not bites ; and you, whose pastime 
Is to make midnight-mushrooms ; that rejoice 
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid 
(Weak masters though you be) I have bc-dimm'd 
The noon-tide sun, call'd forth the mutiuous winds, 

* Thatch. 



TEMPEST. 87 

And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault 
Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder 
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak 
With his own bolt : the strong-bas'd promontory 
Have I made shake ; and by the spurs pluck'd up 
The pine, and cedar : graves, at my command, 
Have wak'd their sleepers; op'd, and let them forth 
By my so potent art. 

SENSES RETURNING. 

The charm dissolves apace, 
And as the morning steals upon the night, 
Meltiug the darkness, so their rising senses 
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle 
Their clearer reason. — O my good Gonzalo, 
My true preserver, and a loyal sir 
To him thou follow'st ; I will pay th) r graces 
Home, both in word and deed.— Most cruelly 
Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter : 
Thy brother was a furtherer in the act: — [blood, 
Thou'rt pinchd for't now, Sebastian. — Flesh and 
You brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, 
Expell'd remorse* and nature ; who, with Sebastian, 
(Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong), 
Would here have kill'd our king; I do forgive thee, 
Unnatural though thou art! —Their understanding 
Begins to swell; and the approaching tide 
Will shortly fill the reasonable shores, 
That now lie foul and mudd} r . Not one of them, 
That yet looks on me, or would know me. 

ARIEL'S SONG. 

W r here the bee sucks, there suck I; 

In a cowslip's bell I lie: 

There I couch when owls do fly, 

On the bat's back I do fly, 

After summer, merrily : 
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, 
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. 
* Pit j, or tenderness of heart. 



Wwtltfb ntgftt 



ACT I. 

MUSIC. 



If music be the food of love, play on, 
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, 

The appetite may sicken, and so die. 

That strain again ; it had a d} ing fall : 
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, 
That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
Stealing, and giving odour. 

NATURAL AFFECTION ALLIED TO LOVE. 

O, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame, 
To pay this debt of love but to a brother, 
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft 
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else 
That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart, 
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd, 
(Her sweet perfections) with one self king! 

ESCAPE FROM DANGER. 

I saw your brother, 
Most provident in peril, bind himself 
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice) 
To a strong mast that lived upon the sea; 
Where, like Anon on the dolphin's back, 
I saw him hold acquaintance with the wave, 
So long as I could see. 

A BEAUTIFUL BOY. 

Dear lad, believe it; 
For they shall yet belie thy happy years 
That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip 
Is not more smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe 
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound, 
And all is scmblative a woman's part. 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 89 



DETERMINED LOVE. 



Oli. Why, what would you ? 

Vio, Make me a willow cabin at your gate, 
And call upon my soul within the house ; 
Write loyal cantons* of contemned love, 
And sing them loud even in the dead of night; 
Holla your name to the reverberate f hills, 
And make the babbling gossip of the air 
Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest 
Between the elements of air and earth, 
But you should pity me. 



ACT II. 



Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, 
Wherein the pregnantj enemy does much. 
How easy is it, for the proper-false § 
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! 
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we ; 
For, such as we are made of, such we be. 

TRUE LOVE. 

Come hither, boy; If ever thou shalt love, 
In the sweet pangs of it, remember me : 
For, such as I am, all true lovers are ; 
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, 
Save, in the constant image of the creature 
That is belov'd. ^ 

THE WOMAN SHOULD BE YOUNGEST IN LOVE. 

Too old, by heaven ; Let still the woman take 
An elder than herself; so wears she to him, 
So sways she level in her husband's heart. 
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 
* Cantos, verses. + Echoing. 

X Dexterous, readv fiend. § Fair deceiver. 

12 



90 B EAUTI ES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Our fancies are more giddy and unfirra, 
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, 
Than women's are. 

CHARACTER OF AN OLD SONG. 

Mark it, Cesario ; it is old, and plain: 
The spinster and the knitters in the sun, 
And the free maids, that weave their thread with 
Do use to chaunt it; it is silly soothf, [bones*, 

And dallies with the innocence of love, 
Like the old age J, 

SONG. 

Come away, come away, death, 
And in sad cypress let me be laid; 

Fly away, fly away, breath ; 
I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, 

O, prepare it ; 
My part of death no one so true 
Did share it. 

Not a flower, not a flower sweet, 
On my black coffin let there be strown ; 

Not a friend, not a friend greet 
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown ; 
A thousand thousand sighs to save, 

Lay me, O where 
Sad true lover ne'er find my grave, 
To weep there. 

/ CONCEALED LOVE. 

She never told her love, 
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, 
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought; 
And, with a green and yellow melancholy, 
She sat like patience on a monument, 
Smiling at grief. 

* Lace-makers. t Simple truth. J Times of simplicity. 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 91 

ACT III. 



This fellow's wise enough to play the fool ; 

And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit: 

He must observe their mood on whom he jests, 

The quality of persons, and the time; 

And, like the haggard*, check at every feather 

That comes before his eye. This is a practice, 

As full of labour as a wise man's art: 

For folly, that he wisely shows, is tit; 

But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. 

UNSOUGHT LOVE, 

Cesario, by the roses of the spring, 
By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, 
I love thee so, that, maugref all tliy pride, 
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide. 
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, 
For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause : 
But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter: 
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. 



€wo ^mtUxnen of Vtxm&> 



ACT I. 



LOVE COMMENDED AND CENSURED. 

JL et writers say, As in the sweetest bud ? 
The eating canker dwells, so eating love 
Inhabits in the finest wits of all* 
And writers say, As the most forward bud 

* A hawk not well trained. t In spite of. 



02 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, 
Even so by love the young and tender wit 
Is turn'd to folly ; blasting in the bud, 
Losing his verdure even in the prime, 
And all the fair effects of future hopes. 

•LOVE FROWARD AND DISSEMBLING. 

Maids, in modesty, say No, to that 
Which they would have the profferer construe, Aye. 
Fie, fie ! how wayward is this foolish love, 
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, 
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod! 

ADVANTAGE OF TRAVELLING. 

He cannot be a perfect man, 
Not being try'd and tutor'd in the world : 
Experience is by industry achiev'd, 
And perfected by the swift course of time. 

LOVE COMPARED TO AN APRIL DAY. 

O, how this spring of love resembleth 
The uncertain glory of an April day; 

Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, 
And by and by a cloud takes all away ! 



ACT II. 



HUMOROUS DESCRIPTION OF A MAN IN LOVE, 

Marry, by these special marks: First, you have 
learned, like sir Proteus, to wreath your arras like a 
male-content; to relish a love-song, like a robin-red- 
breast; to walk alone, like one that had the pesti- 
lence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had lost his 
A, B, C ; to weep, like a young wench that had 
buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes 
diet*; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to 

* Under a regimen. 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 93 

speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas*. You 
were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; 
when you walked, to walk like one of the lions; 
when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; 
when you looked sadly, it was for want of money: 
and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, 
that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you 
my master. 

AN ACCOMPLISHED YOUNG GENTLEMAN. 

His years but young, but his experience old ; 
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe; 
And, in a word (for far behind his worth 
Come all the praises that I now bestow), 
He is complete in feature, and in mind, 
With all good grace to grace a gentleman! 

CONTEMPT OF LOVE PUNISHED. 

I have done penance for contemning love; 
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me 
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, 
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs ; 
For, in revenge of my contempt of love, 
Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, 
And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow. 
O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord ; 
And hath so humbled me, as, i confess, 
There is no woe to his correction, 
Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth ! 
Now, no discourse, except it be of love ; 
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, 
Upon the very naked name of love. 

LOVE COMPARED TO A WAXEN IMAGE. 

For now my love is thaw'd ; 
Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, 
Bears no impression of the thing it was. 

* Allhallowmas. 



04 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

LOVE INCREASED BY ATTEMPTS TO SUPPRESS IT. 

Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, 
Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow, 
As seek to quench the fire of love with words. 
. Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire; 
But qualify the fire's extreme rage, 
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. 

Jul. The more thou dam'st* it up, the more it burns ; 
The current that with gentle murmur glides, 
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; 
But, when his fair course is not hindered, 
He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones, 
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
He overtaketh in bis pilgrimage ; 
And so by many winding nooks he strays, 
With willing sport to the wild ocean. 
Then let me go, and hinder not my course : 
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, 
And make a pastime of each weary step, 
Till the last step have brought me to my love ; 
And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil f, 
A blessed soul doth in Elysium. 

A FAITHFUL AND CONSTANT LOVER. 

His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; 
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; 
His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart; 
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth. 



ACT III. 



PRESENTS PREVAIL WITH WOMAN. 

Win her with gifts, if she respect not words; 

Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, 

More than quick words, do move a woman's mind. 

* Closest. t Trouble. 






TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. i)o 

A lover's banishment. 

And why not death, rather than living torment? 
To die, is to be banished from myself; 
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her, 
Is self from self; a deadly banishment! 
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? 
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by ? 
Unless it be to think that she is by, 
And feed upon the shadow of perfection. 
Except I be by Silvia in the night, 
There is no music in the nightingale; 
Unless I look on Silvia in the day, 
There is no day for me to look upon. 

BEAUTY PETITIONING IN VAIN. 

Ay, ay ; and she hath offer'd to the doom, 
(Which, unrevers'd, stands in effectual force), 
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears: 
Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; 
With them, upon her knees, her humble self; 
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became 
As if but now they waxed pale for woe: [them. 
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, 
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, 
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire. 

HOPE. 

Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that, 
And manage it against despairing thoughts. 

LOVE COMPARED TO A FIGURE ON ICE. 

This weak impress of love is as a figure 
Trenched* in ice; which with an hour's heat 
Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form. 

THREE THINGS IN MAN DISLIKED BY FEMALES. 

The best way is to slander Valentine 
With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent ; 
Three things that women highly hold in hate. 

* Cat. 



96 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE, 

THE POWER OF POETRY WITH FEMALES. 

Say, that upon the altar of her beauty 
You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart : 
Write till your ink be dry ; and with your tears 
Moist it again ; and frame some feeling line, 
That may discover such integrity : — 
For Orpheus' lute was strung with poet's sinews ; 
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones., 
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans 
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. 



ACT IV. 



THE POWER OF ACTION. 



At that time I made her weep a-good*, 
For I did play a lamentable part: 
Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning 
For Theseus' perjury, and unjust flight ; 
Which I so lively acted with my tears. 
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal, 
Wept bitterly; and, would, I might be dead., 
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow ! 



ACT V. 



A LOVER IN SOLITUDE. 

How use doth breed a habit in a man ! 
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, 
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns : 
Here can 1 sit alone, unseen of any, 
And to the nightingale's complaining notes, 
Tune my distresses, and record f my woes. 
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, 

* In £ood earnest. + Sing, 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 97 

Leave not the mansion so long tenantless; 
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall, 
And leave no memory of what it was ! 
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia ; 
Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain ! 

LOVE UNRETURNED. 

What dangerous action, stood it next to death, 
Would I not undergo for one calm look? 
O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd *, 
WJien women cannot love where they're belov'd. 

INFIDELITY IN A FRIEND. 

Who should be trusted now, when one's right hand 
Is perjur'd to the bosom ? Proteus, 
I am sorry, I must never trust thee more, 
But count the world a stranger for thy sake. 
The private wound is deepest, 

REPENTANCE. 

Who by repentance is not satisfied, 
Is nor of heaven, nor earth. 

INCONSTANCY IN MAN. 

O heaven! were man 
But constant, he were perfect : but that one error 
Fills him with faults, 

* Felt, experienced. 



mintet f & Sale. 



ACT I- 

YOUTHFUL INNOCENCE. 

W e were, fair queen, 
Two lads, that thought there was no more behind, 
But such a day to-morrow as to-day, 
And to be boy eternal. 

We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i' the sun, 
And bleat the one at the other: what we changed, 
Was innocence for innocence; we knew not 
The doctrine of ill doing, no, nor dream'd 
That any did: Had we pursu'd that life, 
And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd 
With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven 
Boldly, Not guilty ; the imposition clear'd, 
Hereditary ours*. 

FONDNESS OF A FATHER FOR HIS CHILD. 

Leon. Are you so fond of your young prince as we 
Do seem to be of ours? 

Pol. If at home, sir, 

He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter: 
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy : 
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all : 
He makes a July's day short as December; 
And, with his varying childness, cures in me 
Thoughts that would thick my blood. 

* Setting aside original sin. 



WINTER'S TALE. 90 



JEALOUSY. 



Is whispering nothing? 
Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? 
Kissing with iuside lip? stopping the career 
Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible 
Of breaking honesty): horsing foot on foot? 
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift? 
Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes blind 
With the pin and web*, but theirs, theirs only, 
That would unseen be wicked ? is this nothing? 
Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing ; 
The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing ; 
My wife is nothing ; nor nothing have these nothings, 
If this be nothing. 

REGICIUES DETESTABLE. 

To do this deed, 
Promotion follows : If I could find example 
Of thousands, that had struck anointed kings, 
And flourished after, I'd not do't: but since 
Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one, 
Let villany itself forswear't. 



ACT II. 



KNOWLEDGE SOMETIMES HURTFUL. 

There may be in the cup 
A spiderf steep'd, and one may drink ; depart, 
And yet partake no venom ; for his knowledge 
Is not infected: but if one present 
The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known 
How he hath drank, he cracks his gorge, his sides. 
With violent hefts J. 

* Disorders of the eye. 

t Spiders were esteemed poisouous in our author's time. 

^ Heavings. 

L. - 



TOO 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 
ELOQUENCE IN SILENT INNOCENCE. 




Pray you, Emilia, 
Commend my best obedience to the queen ; 
If she dares trust me with her little babe, 
I'll show't the king, and undertake to be 
Her advocate to the loudest: We do not know 
How he may soften at the sight of the child ; 
The silence often of pure innocence 
Persuades, when speaking fails. 

EXPOSING AN INFANT. 

Come on, poor babe : 
Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens, 
To be thy nurses! Wolves, and bears, they say, 
Casting their savageness aside, have done 
Like offices of pity. 



ACT III. 

INNOCENCE. 



Innocence shall make 
False accusation blush, and tyranny 
Tremble at patience. 



winter's tale. Wl 

THE INFANT EXPOSED. 




Poor wretch, 
That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd 
To loss, and what may follow!— Weep I cannot, 
But my heart bleeds : and most accurs'd am I, 
To be by oath enjoin'd to this. — Farewell! 
The day frowns more and more; thou art like to have 
A lullaby too rough. 

a clown's description of a wreck. 
I would, yon did but see how it chafes, how it 
rages, how it takes up the shore ! but that's not to 
the point: O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! 
sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em: now the 
ship boring the moon with her main-mast; and anon 
swallowed with yest and froth, as 3 T ou'd thrust a cork 
into a hogshead. And then for the land service, — 
To see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how 
he cried to me for help, and said, his name was An- 
tigonus, a nobleman: — But to make an end of the 
ship: — to see how the sea fiap-dragoned* it: — but, 
first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked 
them ; —and how the poor gentleman roared, and the 
bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea, 
or weather, 

* Swallowed. 
K 2 



102 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

DESPAIR OF PARDON. 

But, O, thou tyrant! 
Do not repent these things ; for they are heavier 
Than all thy woes can stir : therefore betake thee 
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees 
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, 
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter 
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods 
To look that way thou wert. 

DESCRIPTION OF A GHOST APPEARING IN A DREAM. 

I haveheard (but not believ'd) the spirits of the dead 
May walk again : if such thing be, thy mother 
Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream 
So like a waking. To me comes a creature 
Sometimes her head on one side, some another; 
I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, 
So fillM, and so becoming : in pure white robes, 
Like very sanctity, she did approach 
My cabin where I lay : thrice bow'd before me : 
And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes 
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon 
Did this break from her : Good Antigonus, 
Since fate, against thy better disposition. 
Hath made thy person for the thrower-out 
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, — 
Places remote enough are in Bohemia, 
There weep, and leave it crying ; and, for the babe 
Is counted lost for ever, Perdita, 
I pr'ythee, calVt; for this ungentle business, 
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see 
Thy wife Paulina more : — and so, with shrieks, 
She melted into air. Affrighted much, 
I did in time collect myself; and thought 
This was so, and no plumber. Dreams are toys; 
Yet for this once, yea superstitiously, 
1 will be squar'd by this. 



winter's tale. 103 



ACT IV. 

A GARLAND FOR OLD MEN. 

Reverend sirs, 
For you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep 
Seeming, and savour*, all the winter long: 
Grace, and remembrance be to you both, 
And welcome to our shearing ! 

NATURE AND ART. 

Per. Sir, the year growing ancient, — 

Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth 
Of trembling winter, — the fairest flowers of the season 
Are our carnations, and streak'd gilliflowers, 
Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind 
Our rustic garden's barren ; and I care not 
To get slips of them. 

Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden, 

Do you neglect them ? 

Per. Forf I have heard it said, 

There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares 
With great creating nature. 

Pol. Say, there be ; 

Yet nature is made better by no mean, 
But nature makes that mean : so, o'er that art, 
Which you say, adds to nature, is an art 
That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry 
A gentler scion to the wildest stock ; 
And make conceive a bark of baser kind 
By bud of nobler race ; This is an art 
Which does mend nature, — change it rather : but 
The art itself is nature. 

A GARLAND FOR MIDDLE-AGED MEN. 

I'll not put 
The dibblej in earth to set one slip of them ; 

* Likeness and smell. f Because that. 

% A tool to set plants. 



104 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAUE. 

No more than, were I painted, I would wish [fore 
This youth should say, 'twere well ; and only there- 
Desire to breed by me. — Here's flowers for you ; 
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ; 
The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, 
And with him rises weeping; these are flowers 
Of middle summer, and, I think, they are given 
To men of middle age. 

A GARLAND FOR YOUNG MEN. 

Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, 
And only live by gazing. 

Per. Ont, alas ! 

You'd be so lean, that blasts of January 
Would blow you through and through. — Now, my 

fairest friend, 
I would, I had some flowers o' the spring, that might 
Become your time of day ; and yours, and yours ; 
That wear upon your virgin branches yet 
Your maidenheads growing: — O, Proserpina, 
For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall 
From Dis's* waggon! daffodils, 
That come before the swallow dares, and take 
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, 
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, 
Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses, 
That die unmarried, ere they can behold 
Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady 
Most incident to maids ; bold oxlips, and 
The crown-imperial ; lilies of all kinds, 
The flower-de-luce being one ! O, these I lack, 
To make you garlands of; and, my sweet friend, 
To strew him o'er and o'er. 

a lover's commendation. 

What you do, 
Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, 
I'd have you do it ever: when you sing, 
I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms 5 

• Pluto. 






winter's tale. 105 

Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, 

To sing them too : When you do dance, I wish you 

A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do 

Nothing but that; move still, still so, and own 

No other function : Each jour doing, 

So singular in each particular, 

Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds. 

That all your acts are queens. 

TRUE love. 

He says, he loves my daughter; 
I think so too ; for never gaz'd the moon 
Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read, 
As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain, 
I think, there is not half a kiss to choose, 
Who loves another best. 

PRESENTS LIGHTLY REGARDED EY REAL LOVERS. 

Pol. How now, fair shepherd? 

Your heart is full of something, that does take 
Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young, 
And handed love, as you do, I was wont 
To load my she with knacks: I would have ransack'd 
The pedlar's silken treasury, and have pour'd it 
To her acceptance; you have let him go, 
And nothing marted* with him; if jour lass 
Interpretation should abuse ; and call this 
Your lack of love, or bounty: you were straitedf 
For a reply, at least, if you make a care 
Of happy holding her. 

Flo. Old sir, I know, 

She prizes not such trifles as these are : 
The gifts she looks from me, are pack'd and lock'd 
Up in my heart; which I have given already, 
But not deliver'd. — O, hear me breathe my life 
Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem, 
Hath sometime lov'd: I take thy hand, this hand, 
As soft as dove's down, and as white as it ; 

* Bought, trafficked. t Pat to difficulties. 



106 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fam'd snow, 
That's bolted* by the northern blasts twice o'er. 

A FATHER THE BEST GUEST AT HIS SON'S NUPTIALS. 

Pol. Mcthinks, a father 

Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest 
That best becomes the table. Pray you, once more : 
Is not your father grown incapable 
Of reasonable affairs? Is he not stupid 
With age, and altering rheums? Can he speak? hear? 
Know man from man? dispute his own estate f? 
Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing, 
But what he did being childish? 

Flo. No, good sir; 

He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed, 
Than most have at his age. 

Pol. By my white beard, 

You offer him, if this be so, a wrong 
Something unfilial: Reason, my son, 
Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason, 
The father (all whose joy is nothing else 
But fair posterity), should hold some counsel 
In such a business. 

RURAL SIMPLICITY. 

I was not much afeard : fur once or twice, 
I was about to speak ; and tell him plainly, 
The self-same sun, that shines upon his court, 
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but 
Looks on alike. 

LOVE CEMENTED BY PROSPERITY, BUT LESSENED BY 
ADVERSITY. 

Prosperity's the very bond of love ; 
Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together 
Affliction alters. 

• The sieve used to separate flour from l>ran is called a bolt- 
ing-cloth, t Talk over his affairs. 



winter's tale. 107 

ACT V. 

WONDER, PROCEEDING FROM SUDDEN JOY. 

There was a speech in their dumbness, language in 
their very gesture; they looked, as they had heard 
of a world ransomed, or one destroyed : A notable 
passion of wonder appeared in them : but the wisest 
beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not 
say, if the importance * were joy or sorrow : but in 
the extremity of the one, it must needs be. 

A STATUE. 

What was he that did make it?— See, my lord, 
Would younot deem it breath'd? and that those veins 
Did verily bear blood ? 

Pol. Masterly done : 

The very life seems warm upon her lip. 

Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion in'tf 
As J we are mock'd with art. 

Still, methinks, 
There is an air comes from her: What fine chizzel 
Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, 
For I will kiss her. 

A WIDOW COMPARED TO A TURTLE. 

I, an old turtle, 
Will wing me to some withered bough ; and there 
My mate, that's never to be found again, 
Lament till I am lost. 

* The thing imported. 

t i. e. Though her eye be fixed, it seems to have motion 
in it. + As if. 



a&eautfe* of £i)afc$jpeat*< 



PART THE SECOND. 



HISTORICAL PLAYS, 

Chronologically Arranged* 



ittttg Jotm* 



ACT I. 



NEW TITLES. 



(jtood den*, sir Richard, — God-a-mercy, fellow ;- 
And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter: 
For new-made honour doth forget men's names ; 
? Tis too respective f, and too sociable, 
For your conversion]:. Now your traveller, — 
He and his tooth-pick at ray worship's mess ; 
And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd, 
Why then I suck my teeth, and catechise 

My picked man of countries §: My dear sir, 

(Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin,) 
I shall beseech you — That is question now ; 
And then comes answer like an ABC-book ||: — 
O sir, says answer, at your best command; 

At your employment ; at your service, sir : 

No, sir, says question, 1, sweet sir, at yours : 

And so, ere answer knows what question would, 

(Saving in dialogue of compliment; 

And talking of the Alps, and Appenines, 

The Pyrenean, and the river Po,) 

It draws toward supper in conclusion so. 

But this is worshipful society, 

And fits the mounting spirit, like myself: 

For he is but a bastard to the time, 

That doth not smack of observation. 

* Good evening. t Respectable. 

£ Change of condition. § My travelled fop. 

|| Catechism. 



112 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



ACT II. 

DESCRIPTION OF ENGLAND. 

That pale, that white-fac'd shore, 
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides, 
And coops from other lands her islanders, 
Even till that England, hedg'd in with the main, 
That water-walled bulwark, still secure, 
And confident from foreign purposes, 
Even till that utmost corner of the west 
Salute thee for her king. 

DESCRIPTION OF AN ENGLISH ARMY. 

His marches are expedient* to this town, 
His forces strong, his soldiers confident. 
With him along is come the mother-queen, 
An Atef, stirring him to blood and strife; 
With her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain; 
With them a bastard of the king deceas'd : 
And all the unsettled humours of the land,— 
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, 
With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens, — 
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, 
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, 
To make a hazard of new fortunes here. 
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits, 
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er, 
Did never float upon the swelling tide, 
To do oifence and scathj in Christendom. 
The interruption of their churlish drums 
Cuts off' more circumstance : they are at hand. 

COURAGE. 

By how much unexpected, by so much 
We must awake endeavour for defence; 
For courage mounteth with occasion. 

* Immediate, expeditious. t The Goddess of Revenge. 
} Mischief. 



KING JOHN. H3 

A BOASTER. 

What cracker is this same, that deafs our ears 
With this abundance of superfluous breath 

DESCRIPTION OF VICTORY BY THE FRENCH. 

You men of Angiers, open wide your gates, 
And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in; 
Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made 
Much work for tears in many an English mother, 
Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground : 
Many a widow's husband groveling lies, 
Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth ; 
And victory, with little loss, doth play 
Upon the dancing banners of the French; 
Who are at hand, triumphantly displayed, 
To enter conquerors. 

VICTORY DESCRIBED BY THE ENGLISH. 

Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells; 
King John, your king and England's, doth approach, 
Commander of this hot malicious day ! 
Their armours, that ruarch'd hence so silver bright, 
Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood; 
There stuck no plume in any English crest, 
That is removed by a staff of France ; 
Our colours do return in those same hands 
That did display them when we first march'd forth ; 
And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come 
Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, 
Died in the dying slaughter of their foes. 

A COMPLETE LADY. 

If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, 
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? 
If zealous* love should go in search of virtue, 
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? 
If love ambitious sought a match of birth, 
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch? 

* Pious. 
L2 



114 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

POWERFUL EFFECTS OF SELF INTEREST. 




Mad world! mad kings! mad composition! 
John, to stop Arthur's title to the whole, 
Hath willingly departed with a part : 
And France (whose armour conscience buckled on ; 
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field, 
As God ; s own soldier), rounded* in the ear 
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil ; 
That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith ; 
That daily break-vow ; he that wins of all, 
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids , — 
Who having no external thing to lose 
Eut the word maid, — cheats the poor maid of that; 
That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling commodi- 
Commodity, the bias of the world; [tyt> — 

The world, who of itself is peisedj well, 
Made to run even, upon even ground ; 
Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias, 
This sway of motion, this commodity, 
Makes it take head from all indifferency, 
From all direction, purpose, course, intent : 
And this same bias, &c. 

* Conspired. t Interest. | Poised, balaueed. 



KING JOHN. 



115 



ACT III. 



A woman's fears. 




Gone to be married, gone to swear a peace, 

Believe me, I do not believe thee, man; 

I have a king's oath to the contrary; 

Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me, 

For I am sick, and capable* of fears; 

Oppressed with wrongs, and therefore full of fears ; 

A widow, husbandless, subject to fears; 

A woman, naturally born to fears ; 

And though thou now confess, thou didst but jest, 

With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, 

But they will quake and tremble all this day. 

TOKENS OF GRIEF. 

What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head ? 
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son ? 
What means that hand upon that breast of thine? 
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, 
Like a proud river peering J o'er his bounds ? 
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? 



Susceptible. 



-f- Appearing. 



116 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Then speak again ; not all thy former tale, 
But this one word, whether thy tale be true. 

a mother's fondness for a beautiful child. 
If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert grim, 
Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, 
Full of unpleasing blots, and sightless* stains, 
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious f, 
Patch'd with foul moles, and eyc-oflending marks, 
I would not care, I then would be content; 
For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou 
Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. 
But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy! 
Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great: 
Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast, 
And with the half-blown rose. 



I will instruct my sorrows to be proud ; 
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout. 

COWARDICE AND PERJURY. 

O Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame 
That bloody spoil : Thou slave, thou wretch, thou 
Thou little valiant, great in villany! [coward; 

Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! 
Thou fortune's champion, that dost never light 
But when her humorous ladyship is by 
To teach thee safety ! thou art perjurd too, 
And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou, 
A ramping fool; to brag, and stamp, and swear, 
Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave, 
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? 
Been sworn my soldier? bidding me depend 
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength? 
And dost thou now fall over to my foes? 
Thou wear a lion's hide ! dofi 'X it for shame, 
And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs. 

* Unsightly. t Portentous. $ Do off. 



KTNG JOHN. 117 



THE HORRORS OF A CONSPIRACY. 

I had a thing to say, — But let it go : 
The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, 
Attended with the pleasures of the world, 
Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds*, 
To give me audience : — If the midnight bell 
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, 
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night; 
If this same were a church yard where we stand. 
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs; 
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, 
Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick ; 
(Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins. 
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes, 
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, 
A passion hateful to my purposes ;) 
Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, 
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply 
Without a tongue, using conceit f alone, 
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words; 
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, 
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts : 
But, ah, I will not. 

APOSTROPHE TO DEATH. 

O amiable, lovely death ! 
Thou odoriferous stench ! sound rottenness ! 
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, 
Thou hate and terror to prosperity, 
And I will kiss thy detestable bones ; 
And put my eye-balls in thy vanity brows ; 
And ring these fingers with thy household worms ; 
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, 
And be a carrion monster like thyself: 
Come, grin on me ; and I will think thou snnTst, 
And buss thee as thy wife ! Misery's love, 
O, come to me ! 

* Showy ornaments. + Conception. 




113 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

A mother's ravings. 

I am not mad : this hair I tear is mine; 
My name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's wife ; 
Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost: 
I am not mad; — I would to heaven I were ! 
For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: 
O, if I could, what grief should I forget! — 
Preach some philosophy to make me mad, 
And thou shalt be canoniz'd, cardinal; 
For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, 
My reasonable part produces reason 
How I may be delivered of these woes, 
And teaches me to kill or hang myself: 
If I were mad, I should forget my son; 
Or madly think a babe of clouts were he : 
I am not mad; too well, too well I feel 
The different plague of each calamity. 

a mother's grief for the loss of a son. 

Father cardinal, I have heard you say, 
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven : 
If that be true, I shall see my boy again; 
For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child, 
To him that did but yesterday suspire*, 
There was not such a graciousf creature born. 
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud, 
And chase the native beauty from his cheek, 
And he will look as hollow as a ghost; 
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit; 
And so he'll die ; and, rising so again, 
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven 
I shall not know him : therefore never, never 
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. 

Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. 

Const. He talks to me that never had a son. 

K. Phi. You are as fond of grief, as of your child. 

* Breathe. t Graceful. 



KING JOHN. 119 

Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, 
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; 
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, 
Remembers me of all his gracious parts, 
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; 
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief. 

DESPONDENCY. 

There's nothing in this world can make me joy : 
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, 
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. 

STRENGTH OF DEPARTING DISEASES. 

Before the curing of a strong disease, 
Even in the instant of repair and health, 
The fit is strongest; evils that take leave, 
On their departure most of all show evil. 

DANGER TAKES HOLD OF ANY SUPPORT. 

He that stands upon a slippery place, 
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. 



ACT IV. 



THE COUNTENANCE OF A MURDERER. 

This is the man should do the bloody deed; 
The image of a wicked heinous fault 
Lives in his eye ; that close aspect of his 
Does show the mood of a much- troubled breast. 

A STRUGGLING CONSCIENCE. 

The colour of the king doth come and go, 
Between his purpose and his conscience, 
Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set : 
His passion is so ripe, it needs must break. 



120 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ARTHUR'S PATHETIC SPEECHES TO HUBERT. 





Methinks, nobody should be sad but I : 
Yet, I remember, when I was in France, 
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, 
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, 
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, 
I should be as merry as the day is long. 

Have you the heart ? When your head did but ache, 
1 knit my handkerchief about your brows, 
(The best I had, a princess wrought it me) 
And I did never ask it you again: 
And with my hand at midnight held your head ; 
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, 
Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time ; 
Saying, What lack you? and, Where lies your grief? 
Or, What good love may I perform for you ? 
Many a poor man's son would have lain still, 
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; 
Hut you at your sick service had a prince. 
-Nay* you may think my love was crafty love, 
And call it cunning: Do, an if you will: 
If heaven be pleas' d that you must use me ill, 
Why, then you must.— Will you put out mine eyes? 



I 



KING JOHN. 121 

These eyes, that never did, nor never shall 
So much as frown on you. 

***** 

Alas, what need you be so boist'rous-rough? 
I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. 
For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound ! 
Nay, hear me, Hubert! drive these men away, 
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; 
Nor will I stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, 
Nor look upon the iron angerly: 
Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, 
Whatever torment you do put me to. 
Is there no remedy ? 

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. 

Arth. O heaven! — that there were but a mote in 
A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair, [yours, 
Any annoyance in that precious sense! 
Then, feeling what small things are boistrous there, 
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. 

PERFECTION ADMITS OF NO ADDITION. 

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 
To throw a perfume on the violet, 
To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish*. 
Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess. 

* * * * * 

In this, the antique and well-noted face 
Of plain old form is much disfigured: 
And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, 
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about: 
Startles and frights consideration ; 
Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, 
For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. 

NEWS-BEARERS. 

Old men, and beldams, in the streets 
Do prophesy upon it dangerously: 

* Decorate. 

M 



122 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths : 

And when they talk of him they shake their heads, 

And whisper one another in the ear; 

And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist; 

Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action, 

With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. 

I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, 

The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, 

With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news ; 

Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, 

Standing on slippers, (which his nimble haste 

Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet,) 

Told of a many thousand warlike French, 

That were embattled and rank'd in Kent: 

Another lean unwash'd artificer 

Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. 

THE EVIL PURPOSES OF KINGS TOO SERVILELY 
EXECUTED. 

It is the curse of kings, to be attended 
By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant 
To break within the bloody house of life : 
And, on the winking of authority, 
To understand a law ; to know the meaning 
Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns 
More upon humour than advisd respect*. 

a villain's look, and ready zeal. 
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, 
Makes deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by, 
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, 
Quoted f, and sign'd, to do a deed of shame, 
This murder had not come into my mind. 
Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a pause, 
When I spake darkly what I purposed; 
Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, 
As bid me tell my tale in express words; 
>eep shame had struck me dumb, made me break ofl. 
And those thy fears might have wrought fears In me. 
• Deliberate consideration. t Observed. 



KING JOHN. 123 



HYPOCRISY. 



Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, 
For villany is not without such rheum*; 
And he, long traded in it, makes it seem 
Like rivers of remorse f and innocency , 

DESPAIR. 

If thou didst but consent 
To this most cruel act, do but despair, 
And, if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread 
That ever spider twisted from her womb 
Will serve to strangle thee ; a rush will be [self, 
A beam to hang thee on ; or wouldst thou drown thy- 
Put but a little water in a spoon, 
And it shall be as all the ocean, 
Enough to stifle such a villain up. 



ACT V. 



A MAN IN TEARS. 

Let me wipe off this honourable dew, 

That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks : 

My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, 

Being an ordinary inundation ; 

But this effusion of such manly drops, 

This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, 

Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd 

Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven 

Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors. 

Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, 

And with a great heart heave away this storm : 

Commend these waters to those baby eyes, 

That never saw the giant world enrag'd ; 

Nor met with fortune other than at feasts, 

Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping, 

* Moisture. t Pity. 



124 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

DRUMS. 

Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war 
Plead for our interest. 

***** 

Do but start 
An echo with the clamour of thy drum, 
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd, 
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine ; 
Sound but another, and another shall, 
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's* ear, 
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder. 

APPROACH OF DEATH. 

It is too late ; the life of all his blood 
Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain 
(Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house), 
Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, 
Foretel the ending of mortality. 

MADNESS OCCASIONED BY POISON. 

Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room ; 
It would not out at windows, nor at doors. 
There is so hot a summer in my bosom, 
That all my bowels crumble up to dust: 
I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen 
Upon a parchment ; and against this fire 
Do I shrink up. 

Poison'd, — ill-fare ; — dead, forsook, cast off: 
And none of you will bid the winter come, 
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw; 
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course 
Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north 
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, 
And comfort me with cold. 

ENGLAND INVINCIBLE IF UNANIMOUS. 

England never did (nor never shall) 
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, 

* Sky. 



KING RICHARD II. 325 

But when it first did help to wound itself. 
Now these her princes are come home again, 
Come the three corners of the world in arms, 
And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, 
It England to itself do rest but true. 



mitts flttr&atfr 11 



ACT I. 



REPUTATION. 

JL he purest treasure mortal times afford, 
Is — spotless reputation ; that away, 
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. 

COWARDICE. 

That which in mean men we entitle — patience, 
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. 

POPULARITY. 

Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, 
Observ'd his courtship to the common people: — 
How he did seem to dive into their hearts, 
With humble and familiar courtesy; 
What reverence he did throw away on slaves; 
Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles, 
And patient underbearing of his fortune, 
As 'twere, to banish their affects with him. 
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; 
A brace of draymen bid — God speed him well, 
And had the tribute of his supple knee, 
W x ith — Thanks, my eountrymen, my loving friends ; 
As were our England in reversion his, 
And he our subjects' next degree in hope. 
m2 



120 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

CONSOLATION UNDER B 4NISHMENT. 




All places that the eye of heaven visits, 
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens: 
Teach thy necessity to reason thus ; 
There is no virtue like necessity. 
Think not the king did banish thee ; 
But thou the king: Woe doth the heavier sit, 
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. 
Go, say — I sent thee forth to purchase honour, 
And not — the king exil'd ihee: or suppose, 
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air, 
And thou art flying to fresher clime. 
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it 
To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st: 
Suppose the singing birds, musicians; [strewM ; 
The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence * 
The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more 
Than a delightful measure, or a dance : 
For gnarling f sorrow hath less power to bite 
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light. 

THOUGHTS INEFFECTUAL TO MODERATE AFFLICTION. 

O, who can hold a fire in his hand, 
Jiy thinking on the frosty Caucasus? 

: Prefepoo-obambei at court. t Growliug. 



KING RICHARD II. 127 

Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, 
By bare imagination of a feast? 
Or wallow naked in December's snow, 
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? 
O, no i the apprehension of the good, 
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse : 
Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more, 
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. 



ACT II, 



ENGLAND PATHETICALLY DESCRIBED. 

This royal throne of kings, this scepterd isle, 
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, 
This other Eden, demi-paradise ; 
This fortress, built by nature for herself, 
Against infection, and the hand of war ; 
This happy breed of men, this little world; 
This precious stone set in the silver sea, 
Which serves it in the office of a wall. 
Or as a moat defensive to a house, 
Against the envy of less happier lands. 



England, bound in with the triumphant sea, 
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege 
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, 
With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds ; 
That England, that was wont to conquer others, 
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself. 

GRIEF. 

Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, 
Which show like grief itself, but are not so : 
For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, 
Divides one thing entire to many objects ; 



128 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEA11E. 

Like perspectives *, which, rightly^gaz'd upon, 
Show nothing but contusion; ey'd awry, 
Distinguish form. 

HOPE DECECTFUL. 

I will despair, and be at enmity 
With cozening hope ; he is a flatterer, 
A parasite, a keeper-back of death, 
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, 
Which false hope lingers in extremity. 

PROGNOSTICS OF WAR. 

The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd, 
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven ; 
The pale-fac\l moon louks bloody on the earth, 
And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change,* 
Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap. 



ACT III. 



APOSTROPHE TO ENGLAND. 

Asa long-parted mother with her child 

Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting; 

So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, 

And do thee favour with my royal hands. 

Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth, 

Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense: 

But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, 

And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way; 

Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet, 

Which with usurping steps do trample thee. 

Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies: 

And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, 

Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder; 

\\ hose double tongue may with a mortal tourh 

Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. — 

* Pictures. 



KING RICHARD II. 129 

Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords ; 
This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones 
Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king 
Shall falter under foul rebellious arms. 

SUN-RISING AFTER A DARK NIGHT. 

Know'st thou not, 
That when the searching eye of heaven is hid 
Behind the globe, and lights the lower world, 
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen, 
In murders, and in outrage, bloody here ; 
But when from under this terrestrial ball, 
He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines, 
And darts his light through every guilty hole, 
Then murders, treasons, and detested sins, 
The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs, 
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? 

VANITY OF POWER, AND MISERY OF KINGS. 

No matter where ; of comfort no man speak : 
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; 
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes 
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. 
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills : 
And yet not so, — for what can we bequeath, 
Save our deposed bodies to the ground ? 
Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, 
And nothing can we call our own, but death ; 
And that small model of the barren earth, 
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. 
For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground, 
And tell sad stories of the death of kings: — 
How some have been depos'd, some slain in war ; 
Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd ; 
Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd; 
All murder'd : — For within the hollow crown 
That rounds the mortal temples of a king, 
Keeps death his court : and there the antic sits, 
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp ; 
Allowing him a breath, a little scene, 



130 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks ; 

Infusing him with self and vain conceit, — 

As if this flesh, which walls about our life, 

Were brass impregnable ; and, humour'd thus, 

Comes at the last, and with a little pin 

Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell king ! 

Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood 

With solemn reverence ; throw away respect, 

Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, 

For you have but mistook me all this while : 

I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, 

Need friends: — Subjected thus, 

How can you say to me — I am a king ? 



ACT V. 



MELANCHOLY STORIES. 

In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire 

With good old folks ; and let them tell thee tales 

Of woeful ages, long ago betid*: 

And ere thou bid good night, to quitf their grief, 

Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, 

And send the hearers weeping to their beds. 

PUBLIC ENTRY. 

York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke, — 
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, 
Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, — 
With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, 
While all tongues cried— God save thee,Bolingbroke! 
You would have thought the very windows spake, 
So many greedy looks of young and old 
Through casements darted their desiring eyes 
Upon his visage; and that all the walls, 
With painted imag'ryt, had said at once,— 

* Passed. t Be even with them. 

| Tapestry hnng from the windows. 



KING RICHARD II. 131 

Jesu preserve thee ! welcome, Bolingbroke! 
Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, 
Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck, 
Bespake them thus, — J thank you, countrymen : 
And thus still doing, thus he passM along. 

Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while? 

York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, 
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, 
Are idly bent* on him that enters next, 
Thinking his prattle to be tedious : 
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes 
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him; 
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home : 
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; 
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, — 
His face still combating with tears and smiles, 
The badges of his grief and patience, — 
That had not God, for some strong purpose, steei'd 
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, 
And barbarism itself have pitied him. 



Who are the violets now, 
That strew the green lap of the new-come spring ? 

A SOLILOQUY IN PRISON. 

I have been studying how I may compare 
This prison, where I live, unto the world: 
And, for because the world is populous, 
And here is not a creature but myself, 
I cannot do it; — Yet I'll hammer it out. 
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul ; 
My soul, the father : and these two beget 
A generation of still-breeding thoughts, 
And these same thoughts people this little world f; 
In humours, like the people of this world, 
For no thought is contented. 

***** 
Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves, — 
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, 
* Carelessly turned. t His own body. 



132 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Nor shall not be the last ; like silly beggars, 
Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame, — 
That many have, and others must sit there: 
And in this thought they find a kind of ease, 
Bearing their own misfortune on the back 
Of such as have before endur'd the like, 
Thus play I, in one person, many people, 
And none contented: Sometimes am I king ; 
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar, 
And so I am : Then crushing penury 
Persuades me I was better when a king! 
Then am I king'd again : and, by-and-by, 
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, 
And straight am nothing: — But, whate'er I am, 
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, 
With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd 
With being nothing. 



lims ffimtv iv. 

PART I. 




ACT I. 

PEACE AFTER CIVIL WAR. 

uo shaken as we are, so wan with care, 
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, 
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils 
To be commono'd in stronds* afar remote. 
No more the thirsty Erinnysf of this soil 
Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood; 
No more shall trenching war channel her fields, 
Nor bruise her flow'rcts with the armed hoofs 
Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes, 
Which, — like the meteors of a troubled heaven, 
! Strand*, hanks of tlir Bea. f The fury of discord. 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 133 

All of one nature of one substance, bred 

Did lately meet in the intestine shock 
And furious close of civil butchery, 
Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks, 
March all one way; and be no more oppos'd 
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies : 
The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, 
No more shall cut his master. 

KING HENRY'S CHARACTER OF PERCY, AND OF HIS 
SON PRINCE HENRY. 

Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and tnak'stme sin 
Iu envy that my lord Northumberland 
Should be the father of so bless'd a son: 
A son who is the theme of honour's tongue; 
Amongst a grove, the very staightest plant ; 
Who is sweet fortune's minion, and her pride : 
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, 
See riot and dishonour stain the brow 
Of my young Harry. 

PRINCE HENRY'S SOLILOQUY. 

I know you all, and will a while uphold 
The unyok'd humour of your idleness : 
Yet herein will I imitate the sun; 
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
To smother up his beauty from the world, 
That, when he please again to be himself, 
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, 
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. 
If all the year were playing holidays, 
To sport would be as tedious as to work; 
But, when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come, 
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 
So, when this loose behaviour I throw otT, 
And pay the debt I never promised, 
By how much better than my word I am, 
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes*; 
* Expectations. 



134 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And, like bright metal on a sullen * ground, 
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, 
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes, 
Than that which hath no foil to set it off. 
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill ; 
Redeeming time, when men think least I will. 

hotspur's description of a finical courtier. 

But, I remember, when the fight was done, 
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, 
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, 
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, 
Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reap'd, 
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest home ; 
He was perfumed like a milliner; 
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 
A pouncet-box t, which ever and anon 
He gave his nose, and took't away again; — 
Who, therewith angry, when it next came there, 
Took it in snuff: — and still he smil'd and talk'd; 
And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 
He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly, 
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse 
Beswixt the wind and his nobility. 
With many holiday and lady terms 
He question'd me ; among the rest demanded 
My prisoners in your majesty's behalf. 
I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, 
To be so pester* d with a popinjay §, 
Out of my grief || and my impatience, 
Answer' d neglectingly, I know not what ; 
He should, or he should not ;— for he made me mad, 
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, 
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman, [mark !) 
Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the 
And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth 
Was parmaceti for an inward bruise; 
And that t was great pity, so it was, 
That villanous salt-petre should be digg'd 

* Dull. t A small box for musk or other perfumes. 

§ Parrot. || Pain. 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 135 

Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
Which many a good tall* fellow had destroyed 
So cowardly; arid, but for these vile guns, 
He would himself have been a soldier. 



I'll read you matter deep and dangerous ; 
As full of peril, and advent'rous spirit, 
As to o'erwalk a current, roaring loud, 
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. 

HONOUR. 

By heaven, metbinks, it were an easy leap, 
To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon ; 
Or dive into the bottom of the deep, 
Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, 
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ; 
So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear, 
Without corrivalf, all her dignities : 
But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship J ! 



ACT II. 

LADY PERCY'S PATHETIC SPEECH TO HER HUSBAND. 

O, MY good lord, why are you thus alone ? 
For what offence have I, this fortnight, been 
A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed? 
Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee 
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep? 
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth ; 
And start so often when thou sit'st alone? 
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks ; 
And given my treasures, and my rights of thee, 
To thick-ey'd musing, and curs'd melancholy? 
In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watch'd, 
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars : 
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ; 

* Brave. t A rival. $ Friendship. 




136 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Cry, Courage ! — to the field! And thou hast talk'd 

Of sallies and retires ; of trenches, tents, 

Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets ; 

Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin ; 

Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain, 

And all the 'currents* of a heady fight. 

Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, 

And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, 

That beadsf of sweat have stood upon thy brow, 

Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream ; 

And in thy face strange motions have appeared, 

Such as we see when men restrain their breath 

On some great sudden haste. O, what portents are 

Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, [these? 

And I must know it, else he loves me not 



ACT III. 

PRODIGIES RIDICULED. 

I cannot blame him: at my nativity 
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, 
Of burning cressets % ; and, at my birth, 
The frame and huge foundation of the earth 
Shak'd like a coward. 

Hot. Why, so it would have done 

At the same season, if your mother's cat had 
But kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born. 
* * * * * 

Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth 

In strange eruptions : oft the teeming earth 

Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd 

By the imprisoning of unruly wind 

Within her womb ; which, for enlargement striving, 

Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples § down 

Steeples and moss-grown towers. 

* Occurrences. t Drops. 

| Lights set cross-ways upon beacons, and also upon poles, 
which were used in processions, &e. $ Tumbles. 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 137 
ON MISERABLE RHYMERS. 

Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart ; 
I had rather be a kitten, and cry — mew, 
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers : 
I had rather hear a brazen canstick* turn'd, 
Or a dry wheel grate on an axletree ; 
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, 
Nothing so much as mincing poetry: 
'Tis like the forc'd gait of a snuffling nag. 

PUNCTUALITY IN BARGAINS. 

I'll give thrice so much land 
To any well-deserving friend ; 
But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me, 
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. 

A HUSBAND SUNG TO SLEEP BY HIS WIFE. 

She bids you 
Upon the wanton rushes lay you down, 
And rest your gentle head upon her lap, 
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you, 
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep, 
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness ; 
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep, 
As is the difference 'twixt day and night, 
The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team 
Begins his golden progress iu the east. 

KING HENRY'S PATHETIC ADDRESS TO HIS SON. 

Had I so lavish of my presence been, 
So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men, 
So stale and cheap to vulgar company ; 
Opinion, that did help me to the crown. 
Had still kept loyal to possession f; 
And left me in reputeless banishment, 
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood. 
By being seldom seen, I could not stir, 

* Candlestick. 

f True to him that had then possession of the crown. 



138 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

But, like a comet, I was wondered at : 

That men would tell their children, This is he; 

Others would say, — Where? — which is Bolingbroke? 

And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, 

And dress'd myself in such humility, 

That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, 

Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, 

Even in the presence of the crowned king. 

Thus did I keep my person fresh, and new; 

My presence, like a robe pontifical, 

Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at : and so my state, 

Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast ; 

And won, by rareness, such solemnity. 

The skipping king, he ambled up and down 

With shallow jesters, and rash bavin* wits, 

Soon kindled, and soon burn'd ; carded his state : 

Mingled his royalty with capering fools ; 

Had his great name profaned with their scorns, 

And gave his countenance, against his name, 

To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push 

Of every beardless vain comparativef : 

Grew a companion to the common streets, 

Enfeoffed J himself to popularity : 

That being daily swallowed by men's eyes, 

They surfeited with honey ; and began 

To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little 

More than a little is by much too much. 

So, when he had occasion to be seen, 

He was but as the cuckoo is in June, 

Heard, not regarded-; seen, but with such eyes, 

As, sick and blunted with community, 

Afford no extraordinary gaze, 

Such as is bent on sun-like majesty 

When it shines seldom in admiring eyes : 

But rather drowz'd, and hung their eyelids down, 

Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect 

As cloudy men use to their adversaries; 

Being with his presence glutted, gorged, and full. 

* Brushwood. t Rival. X Possessed. 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 139 
PRINCE HENRY'S MODEST DEFENCE OF HIMSELF. 

God forgive them, that have so much swayM 
Your majesty's good thoughts away from me ! 
I will redeem all this on Percy's head, 
And, in the closing of some glorious day, 
Be bold to tell you, that I am your son ; 
When I will wear a garment all of blood, 
And stain my favours in a bloody mask, 
Which, washed away, shall scour my shame with it. 
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, 
That this same child of honour and renown, 
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, 
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet : 
For every honour sitting on his helm, 
'Would they were multitudes ; and on my head 
My shames redoubled ! for the time will come 
That I shall make this northern youth exchange 
His glorious deeds for my indignities. 
Percy is but my factor, good my lord, 
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; 
And I will call him to so strict account, 
That he shall render every glory up, 
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, 
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. 
This, in the name of God, I promise here : 
The which if he be pleas'd I shall perform, 
I do beseech your majesty, may salve 
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance : 
If not, the end of life cancels ail bands*; 
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths. 
Ere break the smallest parcel f of this vow. 



ACT IV. 



A GALLANT WARRIOR. 

I saw young Harry,— with his beaver on, 
His cuissest on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, 
Rise from the ground like fealher'd Mercury, 

* Bonds. t Part. t Armour. 



140 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And vaulted with such ease into his seat, 

As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, 

To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, 

And witch* the world with noble horsemanship. 

hotspur's impatience for the battle. 
Let them come ; 
They come like sacrifices in their trim, 
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war, 
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them : 
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit, 
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire, 
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh, 
And yet not ours: — Come, let me take my horse, 
Who is to bear me, like a thunderbolt, 
Against the bosom of the prince of Wales : 
Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, 
Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse.- 
O, that Glendower were come ! 



ACT V. 

PRINCE HENRY'S MODEST CHALLENGE, 

Tell your nephew, 
The prince of Wales doth join with all the world 
In praise of Henry Percy : By my hopes, — 
This present enterprise set off his head, — 
I do not think a braver gentleman, 
More active-valiant, or more valiant-young, 
More daring, or more nold, is now alive, 
To grace this latter age with noble deeds. 
For my part I may speak it to my shame, 
I have a truant been to chivalry; 
And so, I hear, he doth account me too : 
Yet this before my father's majesty, — 
I am content that he shall take the odds 
Of his great name and estimation ; 
And will, to save the blood on either side, 
Try fortune with him in a single fight. 

* Bewitch, charm. 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 141 
falstaff's catechism. 
Well, 'tis no matter: Honour pricks me on. Yea, 
but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? 
how then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an 
arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. 
Honour hath no skill in surgery then? No. What is 
honour? A word. What is in that word ? Honour. 
What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who 
hath it ? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel 
it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then? 
Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the liv- 
ing ? No. Why ? Detraction will not suffer it : — 
therefore I'll none of it : Honour is a mere escut- 
cheon*, and so ends my catechism. 

LIFE DEMANDS ACTION. 

O, gentlemen, the time of We is short; 
To spend that shortness basely were too long, 
If life did ride upon a dial's point. 
Still ending at the arrival of an hour. 

PRINCE HENRY'S PATHETIC SPEECH ON THE DEATH OF 
HOTSPUR. 

Brave Percy, fare thee well. 
Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk! 
When that this body did contain a spirit, 
A kingdom for it was too small a bound ; 
But now, two paces of the vilest earth 
Is room enough : — This earth, that bears thee dead, 
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. 
If thou wert sensible of courtesy, 
I should not make so dear a show of zeal: — 
But let my favours f hide thy mangled face ; 
And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself 
For doing these fair rites of tenderness. 
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven ! 
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, 
But not remember'd in thy epitaph ! 

* Painted heraldry in funerals. 

t Scarf, with which he covers Percy's face. 



fttng ffitntn iv. 

PART II. 



INDUCTION. 

RUMOUR. 




Enter Rumour, painted full of Tongues, 

Jl> from the orient to the drooping west, 
Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold 
The acts commenced on this ball of earth : 
Upon my tongues continual slanders ride ; 
The which in every language I pronounce, 
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. 
I speak of peace, while covert enmity, 
Under the smile of safely, wounds the world: 
And who, but Rumour, who, but only I, 
Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence; 
Whilst the big year, swoln with some other grief, 
Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, 
And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe 
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures; 
And of so easy and so plain a stop, 
That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, 
The still-discordant wavering multitude, 
Can play upon it. 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 143 



ACT I. 

CONTENTION. 

Contention, like a horse 
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, 
And bears down all before him. 

POST MESSENGER. 

After him, came, spurring hard, 
A gentleman almost forspent* with speed, 
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse : 
He ask'd the way to Chester ; and of him 
I did demand, what news from Shrewsbury ? 
He told me, that rebellion had bad luck, 
And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold: 
With that, he gave his able horse the head, 
And, bending forward, struck his armed heels 
Against the panting sides of his poor jade 
Up to the rowel-head ; and, starting so, 
He seem'd in running to devour the way, 
Staying no longer question. 

MESSENGER WITH ILL NEWS. 

This man's brow, like to a title-leaf, 
Foretels the nature of a tragic volume : 
So looks the strond, whereon the imperious flood 

Hath left a witness'd usurpation f- 

Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek 

Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. 

Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, 

So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, 

Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, 

And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd.- 

I see a strange confession in thine eye : 

Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear, or sin, 

To speak a truth. If he be siain. say so : 

The tongue offends not that reports his death : 

And he doth sin that doth belie the dead ; 

* Exhausted. -f An attestation of its ravage. 



144 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Not he, which says the dead is not alive. 
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news 
Hath but a losing office ; and his tongue 
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, 
Remember'd knotting a departing friend. 

GREATER GRIEFS DESTROY THE LESS. 

As the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints, 
Like strengthless hinges buckle under life, 
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire 
Out of his keeper's arms ; even so my limbs, 
Weaken'd with grief, being now enrag'd with grief, 
Are thrice themselves: hence, therefore, thou nice* 
A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel, [crutch; 
Must glove this hand : and hence, thou sickly quoiff, 
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head, 
Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit. 
Now bind my brows with iron ; and approach 
The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring, 
To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland! 
Let heaven kiss earth ! Now let not nature's hand 
Keep the wild flood confin'd! let order die! 
And let this world no longer be a stage, 
To feed contention in a lingering act ; 
But let one spirit of the first-born Cain 
Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set 
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, 
And darkness be the burier of the dead ! 

THE FICKLENESS OF THE VULGAR. 

An habitation giddy and unsure 
Hath he, that buildeth on the vulgar heart. 
O, thou fond many J! with what loud applause 
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, 
Before he was what thou would'st have him be? 
And being now trimm'd§ in thine own desires, 
Thou, beastly feeder, ait so full of him, 
That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up. 

* Trifling. + Cap. $ Multitude. § Dressed. 



SECOND PART OF XING HENRY IV. 145 



ACT III. 

APOSTROPHE TO SLEEP. 




Sleep, gentle sleep, 
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, 
That thou no more wilt weigh nay eyelids down, 
And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? 
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, 
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, 
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber: 
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, 
Under the canopies of costly state, 
And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody? 
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile 
In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly couclr, 
A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell? 
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast 
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains 
In cradle of the rude imperious surge; 
And in the visitation of the winds, 
Who take the ruffian billows by the top, 
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them 
With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds, 
That, with the hurly * death itself awakes? 
Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose 

* Noise. 
O 



146 BEAUTIES OF SKAKSPEARE. 

To the wet sea-boy, in an hour so rude ; 
And in the calmest and most stillest night, 
With all appliances and means to boot, 
Deny it to a king? 



ACT IV. 



THE CHARACTER OF KING HENRY V. BY HIS FATHER. 

He is gracious, if he be observ'd * ; 
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand 
Open as day for melting charity: 
"Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint; 
As humorous as winter, and as sudden 
As flaws congealed in the spring of day. 
His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd: 
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, 
"When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth : 
But, being moody, give him line and scope; 
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, 
Confound themselves with working. 

REFLECTIONS ON GOLD. 

How quickly nature fails into revolt, 
When gold becomes her object! 
For this the foolish over-careful fathers 
Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains 
Their bones with industry ; [with care, 

For this they have engrossed and pil'dup 
The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold; 
For this they have been thoughtful to invest 
Their sons with arts, and martial exercises: 
When, like the bee, tolling f from every flower 
The virtuous sweets; 

( )ui thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey, 
We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees, 
Are murder'd for our pains. 

* Has an attention shown him. t Taking toll. 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 14? 
REFLECTIONS ON A CROWN. 




O polish'd perturbation! golden care! 
That keep'st the ports* of slumber open wide 
To many a watchful night! — sleep with it now! 
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet, 
As he, whose brow, with homely biggin f bound, 
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty ! 
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day, 
That scalds with safety. 

ON FORTUNE. 

Will fortune never come with both hands full, 
But write her fair words still in foulest letters? 
She either gives a stomach, aud no food, — 
Such are the poor, in health ; or else a feast, 
And takes away the stomach, — such are the rich, 
That have abundance, and enjoy it not. 

SCENE BETWEEN PRINCE HENRY AND HIS FATHER. 

Come hither to me, Harry : — 
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. 

P. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak again. 

K.Hen. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought : 
I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. 



r Gates. 



tCap. 



1 48 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE, 

Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair, 
That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours 
Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth ! 
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee. 
Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity 
Is held from falling with so weak a wind, 
That it will quickly drop: my day is dim. 
Thou hast stoln that, which, after some few hours, 
Were thine without offence ; and, at my death, 
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation*: 
Thy life did manifest thou lov'dst me not, 
And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it. 
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts: 
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heait, 
To stab at half an hour of my life. 
What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour ? 
Then get thee gone; and dig my grave thyself; 
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear, 
That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. 
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse^ 
Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head : 
Only compound me with forgotten dust; 
Give that which gave thee life, unto the worms. 
Pluck down my officers, break my decrees; 
For now a time is come to mock at form, 
Harry the fifth is crown'd: — Up, vanity! 
Down, royal state ! all you sage counsellors, hence ! 
And to the English court assemble now, 
From every region, apes of idleness! 
Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scurn : 
Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance, 
Bevel the night; rob, murder, and commit 
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways? 
Be happy, he will trouble you no more: 
England shall double gild his treble guilt ; 
England shall give him office, honour, might; 
For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks 
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog 
Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent. 
* Confirmee) m^ opinion. 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 149 

O, my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows ! 
When that my care could not withhold thy riots, 
What wilt thou do, when riot is thy care? 
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again, 
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants ! 

P. Hen. O, pardon me, my liege ! but for my tears, 

[Kneeling* 
The moist impediments unto my speech, 
I had forestalled this dear and deep rebuke, 
Ere you with grief had spoke, and I had heard 
The course of it so far. There is your crown, 
And He that wears the crown immortally, 
Long guard it yours ! If I affect it more, 
Than as your honour, and as your renown, 
Let me no more from this obedience rise, 
(Which my most true and inward-duteous spirit 
Teacheth) this prostrate and exterior bending! 
Heaven witness with me, when I here came in, 
And found no course of breath within your majesty, 
How cold it struck my heart! if I do feign, 
O, let me in my present wildness die ; 
And never live to show the incredulous world 
The noble change that I have purposed ? 
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, 
(And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,) 
I spake unto the crown as having sense, 
And thus upbraided it. The care on thee depending, 
Hath fed upon the hody of my father ; 
Therefore, thou, best of gold, art worst of gold. 
Other, less fine in caret *, is more precious, 
Preserving life in medicine portable t : 
JBut thou, most fine, most honour d, most renown' d 9 
Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus, my most royal liege, 
Accusing it, I put it on my head ; 
To try with it, — as with an enemy, 
That had before my face murder'd my father, — 
The quarrel of a true inheritor. 
But if it did infect my blood with joy, 
Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride ; 
* Weight. t To be taken. 

6 2 



150 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

If any rebel or vain spirit of mine 
Did, with the least affection of a welcome, 
Give entertainment to the might of it, 
Let God for ever keep it from my head ! 
And make me as the poorest vassal is, 
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it! 

K. Hen. O, my son I 

Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence, 
That thou inigbt'st win the more thy father's love, 
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it. 
Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed ; 
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel 
That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my son, 
By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways, 
I met this crown; and I myself know well, 
How troublesome it sat upon my head : 
To thee it shall descend with better quiet, 
Better opinion, better confirmation; 
For all the soil* of the achievement goes 
With me into the earth. It seemM in irre, 
But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand : 
And I had many living to upbraid 
My gain of it by their assistances; 
Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed, 
Wounding supposed peace: all these bold fearsf, 
Thou see'st, with peril I have answered : 
For all my reign hath been but as a scene 
Acting that argument; and now my death 
Changes the mode X : for what in me waspurchas'd §, 
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort; 
So thou the garland wear'st successively. 
Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do, 
Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green ; 
And all thy friends, which thou must make thy friends. 
Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out; 
By whose fell working I was first advanc'd, 
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear 
To be again displac'd; which to avoid, 

* Spot, dirt. t Frights. J State of things. 

§ Purchase, in Shakspeare, frequently means stolen goods. 






SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 151 

I cut them off; and had a purpose now 
To lead out many to the Holy Land; 
Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look 
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, 
Ee it thy course, to busy giddy minds 
With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out ? 
May waste the memory of the former days. 
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so, 
That strength of speech is utterly denied me. 
How I came by the crown, O God, forgive ! 
And grant it may with thee in true peace live ! 
P. Hen. My gracious liege, 

You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me ; 
Then plain and right must my possession be : 
Which I, with more than with a common pain. 
'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain. 



ACT V. 

ADDRESS OF THE CHIEF JUSTICE TO KING HENRV V. 
WHOM HE HAD IMPRISONED. 

If the deed were ill, 
Be you contented, wearing now the garland*, 
To have a son set your decrees at nought; 
To pluck down justice from your awful bench ; 
To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword 
That guards the peace and safety of your person : 
Nay, more ; to spurn at your most royal image, 
And mock your workings in a second body f. 
Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours; 
Be now the father, and propose a son : 
Hear your own dignity so much profan'd, 
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, 
Behold yourself so by a son disdained ; 
And then imagine me taking your part, 
And, in your power, soft silencing your son. 

* Crown. 

t Treat with contempt yom* acts executed by a representative, 



mm mnxv v. 



CHORUS. 

INVOCATION TO THE MUSE. 

V./, for a muse of fire, that would ascend 
The brightest heaven of invention! 
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, 
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! 
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, 
Assume the port of Mars ; and, at his heels, 
Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire, 
Crouch for employment. 



ACT I. 



CONSIDERATION. 

Consideration like an angel came, 

And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him; 

Leaving his body as a paradise, 

To envelop and contain celestial spirits. 

PERFECTIONS OF KING HENRY V. 

Hear him but reason in divinity, 
And, all-admiring, with an inward wish 
You would desire, the king were made a prelate ; 
Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, 
You would say, — it hath been all-in-all his study: 
List* his discourse of war, and you shall hear 
A fearful battle render'd you in music: 
Turn him to any cause of policy, 
The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, 
Familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks, 
The air, a charterd libertine, is still, 
And the mute wonder lurkcth in men's ears, 
To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences. 
* Listen to. 



kiin:g henry v. 153 

THE COMMONWEALTH OF BEES. 

So work the honey bees; 
Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach 
The act of order to a peopled kingdom. 
They have a king, and officers of sorts*: 
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home ; 
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad; 
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, 
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds; 
Which pillage they with merry march bring home 
To the tent-royal of their emperor: 
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys 
The singing masons building roofs of gold ; 
The civil f citizens kneading up the honey; 
And poor mechanic porters crowding in 
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate ; 
The sad-ey'd justice, with his surly hum, 
Delivering o'er to executors X pale 
The lazy yawning drone. 



ACT II. 

CHORUS. 

WARLIKE SPIRIT. 

Now all the youth of England are on fire, 
And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies ; 
Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought 
Reigns solely in the breast of every man: 
They sell the pasture now to buy the horse ; 
Following the mirror of all Christian kings, 
With winged heels, as English Mercuries. 
For now sits Expectation in the air; 
And hides a sword, from hilts unto the point, 
With crowns imperial, crowns and coronets, 
Fromis'd to Harry, and his followers. 

* Different degrees. f Sober, grave. $ Executioners. 



154 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



APOSTROPHE TO ENGLAND. 

O England ! — model to thy inward greatness, 
Like little body with a mighty heart, — 
What might'st thou do, that honour would thee do, 
Were all thy children kind and natural ! 
But see thy fault ! France hath in thee found out 
A nest of hollow bosoms, which he* tills 
With treacherous crowns. 

FALSE APPEARANCES. 

O, how hast thou with jealousy infected 
The sweetness of affiance ! Show men dutiful ? 
Why, so didst thou : Seem they grave and learned ? 
Why, so didst thou : Come they of noble family? 
Why, so didst thou : Seem they religious? 
Why, so didst thou : Or are they spare in diet ; 
Free from gross passion, or of mirth, or anger; 
Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood ; 
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complementf; 
Not working with the eye, without the ear, 
And, but in purged judgment, trusting neither? 
Such, and so finely bolted J didst thou seem: 
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot, 
To mark the full-fraught man, and best indued §, 
With some suspicion. 

DAME QUICKLY'S ACCOUNT OF FALSTAFF'S DEATH. 

'A made a finer end, and went away, an it had 
been any christom|| child; 'a parted even just be- 
tween twelve and one, e'en at turning o 7 the tide; 
for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play 
with flowers, and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew 
there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as 
a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields. How now, 
Sir John? quoth I: what, man! be of good cheer. 
So '& cried out — God, God, God ! three or four 

• i e. The king; of France. t Accomplishment. 
t Sifted. § Endowed. 

II A child not more than a month old. 



KING HENRY V. 155 

times: now I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should 
not think of God ; I hoped there was no need to 
trouble himself with any such thoughts yet: So, 'a 
bade me lay more clothes on his feet: I put my hand 
into the bed, and felt them, and they were as cold as 
any stone. 

KING HENRYS CHARACTER BY THE CONSTABLE OF 
FRANCE. 

You are too much mistaken in this king : 
Question your grace the late ambassadors, — 
With what great state he heard their embassj 7 , 
How well supplied with noble counsellors, 
How modest in exception*, and, withal, 
How terrible in constant resolution, — 
And you shall find bis vanities forespentf 
Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, 
Covering discretion with a coat of folly ; 
As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots 
That shall first spring, and be most delicate. 



ACT III. 

CHORUS. 

DESCRIPTION OF A FLEET SETTING SAIL. 

Suppose, that you have seen 
The well-appointed king at Hampton pier 
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet 
With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning, 
Play with your fancies ; and in them behold, 
Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing: 
Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give 
To sounds confus'd : behold the threaden sails, 
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, 
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea, 
Breasting the lofty surge. 

* In making objections. f Wasted, exhausted. 



156 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ACT IV. 

CHORUS. 

DESCRIPTION OF NIGHT IN A CAMP. 

From camp to camp, thro' the foul womb of night, 

The hum of either army stilly* sounds, 

That the fix'd sentinels almost receive 

The secret whispers of each other's watch : 

Fire answers fire; and through their paly flames 

Each battle sees the other's umber'd f face : 

Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs 

Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents, 

The armourers accomplishing the knights, 

With busy hammers closing rivets up, 

Give dreadful note of preparation. 

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll, 

And the third hour of drowsy morning name. 

Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul, 

The confident and over-lusty J French 

Do the low-rated English play at dice ; 

And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night, 

Who, like a foul and ugly witch doth limp 

So tediously away. The poor condemned English, 

Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires 

Sit patiently, and inly ruminate 

The morning's danger; and their gesture sad, 

Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats, 

Presenteth them unto the gazing moon 

So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will behold 

The royal captain of this ruin'd band, 

Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, 

Let him cry — Praise and glory on his head ! 

For forth he goes, and visits all his host; 

Bids them good-morrow, with a modest smile ; 

And calls them — brothers, friends, countrymen. 

Upon his royal face there is no note, 

How dread an army hath enrounded him ; 

* Gently, lowly. f Discoloured by the gleam of the fires. 
$ Over-saucy. 



KING HENRY V. 157 

Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour 
Unto the wary and all-watched night: 
But freshly looks, and overbears attaint, 
With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty; 
That every wretch, pining and pale before, 
Beholding hitn, plucks comfort from his looks : 
A largess universal, like the sun, 
His liberal eye doth give to every one, 
Thawing cold feai\ 

Enter Bates, Court, awe? Williams. 

Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the morn- 
ing which breaks yonder? 

Bates. I think it be : but we have no great cause 
to desire the approach of da} r , 

Will. We see yonder the beginning of the day, 
but, I think, we shall never see the end of it. — Who 
goes there? 

K. Hen. A friend. 

Will. Under what captain serve you ? 

K. Hen. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham. 

Will. A good old commander, and a most kind 
gentleman : I pray you, what thinks he of our estate ? 

K. Hen. Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that 
look to be washed off the next tide. 

Bates. He hath not told his thought to the king? 

K. Hen. No; nor it is not meet he should, lor, 
though I speak it to you, I think the king is but a 
man, as I am: the violet smells to him, as it doth to 
me ; the element shows to him, as it doth to me; all 
his senses have but human conditions* : his ceremo- 
nies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man ; 
and though his affections are higher mounted than 
ours, yet, w hen they stoop, they stoop with the like 
wing; therefore, when he sees reason of fears, as we 
do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as 
ours are: Yet, in reason, no man should possess him 
with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, 
should dishearten his army. 

* Qualities. 
P 



158 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Bates. He may show what outward courage he 
will : but, I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could 
wish himself in the Thames up to the neck; and so 
T would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so 
we were quit here. 

K. Hen. By my troth, I will speak my conscience 
of the king ; I think he would not wish himself any 
where but where he is. 

Bates. Then, 'would he were here alone; so should 
he be sure to be ransomed, and many poor men's 
lives saved. 

K. Hen. I dare say, you love him not so ill, to wish 
him here alone ; howsoever you speak this, to feel 
other men's minds: Methinks, I could not die any 
where so contented, as in the king's company ; his 
cause being just, and his quarrel honourable. 

Will. That's more than we know. 

Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek after; 
for we know enough, if we know we are the king's 
subjects ; if his cause be wrong, our obedience to 
the king wipes the crime of it out of us. 

Will. But if the cause be not good, the king him- 
self hath a heavy reckoning to make ; when all those 
legs, and arms, and heads copped off in a battle 
shall join together at the latter day*, and cry all — 
We died at such a place; some, swearing; some, 
crying for a surgeon; some, upon their wives left 
poor behind them ; some, upon the debts they owe ; 
some, upon their children rawly f left. I am afeard 
there arc few die well, that die in battle ; for how 
can they charitably dispose of any thing, when blood 
is their argument? Now, if these men do not die 
well, it will be a black matter for the king that led 
them to it ; whom to disobey, were against all pro- 
portion of subjection. 

K. Hen. So, if a son, that is by his father sent about 
merchandise, do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the 
imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should 

* The last day, the day of judgment. t Suddenly. 



KING HEJNRY V. 159 

be imposed upon his father that sent him : or if a 
servant, under his master's command, transporting a 
sum of money, be assailed by robbers, and die in 
many irreconciled iniquities, you may call the busi- 
ness of the master the author of the servant's dam- 
nation:-— But this is not so: the king is not bound 
to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the 
father of his son, nor the master of his servant ; for 
they purpose not their death, when they purpose 
their services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause 
never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of 
swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers. 
Some, peradventure, have on them the guilt of pre- 
meditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling 
virgins with the broken seals of perjury ; some, mak- 
ing the wars their bulwark, that have before gored 
the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. 
Now, if these men have defeated the law, and out- 
run native punishment*, though they can outstrip 
men, they have no wings to fly from God: war is his 
beadle, war is his vengeance ; so that here men are 
punished, for before-breach of the king's laws, in 
now the king's quarrel: where they feared the death, 
they have borne life away; and where they would 
be safe, they perish : Then if they die unprovided, 
no more is the king guilty of their damnation, than 
he was before guilty of those impieties for the which 
they are now visited. Every subject's duty is the 
king's; but every subject's soul is his own. There- 
fore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick 
man in his bed, wash every mote out of his con- 
science: and dying so, death is to him advantage; or 
not dying, the time was blessedly lost, wherein such 
preparation was gained : and, in him that escapes, 
it were not sin to think, that making God so free an 
offer, he let him outlive that day to see his greatness, 
and to teach others how they should prepare. 

Will 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill is 
upon his own head, the king is not to answer for it. 
* i e, Punishment in their native country. 



1G0 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

THE MISERIES OF ROYALTY. 




O hard condition ! twin-born with greatness, 
Subjected to the breath of every fool, 
Whose sense no more can feel but his own wringing I 
What infinite heart's ease must king's neglect, 
That private men enjoy? 

And what have kings, that privates have not too, 
Save ceremony, save general ceremony ? 
And what art thou, thou idol ceremony? 
What kind of God art thou, that sufter'st more 
Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers ? 
What are thy rents ? what are thy comings-in? 
O, ceremony, show me but thy worth ! 
What is the soul of adoration*? 
Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, 
Creating awe and fear in other men? 
Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd 
Than they in fearing. 

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, 
But poison'd flattery ? O, be sick, great greatness, 
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure! 
Think'st thou, the fiery fever will go out 
With titles blown from adulation? 

* '* What is the real worth and intrinsic value ofadoratiou?" 



KING HENRY V. 161 

Will it give place to flexure and low bending? 

Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee, 

Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream, 

That play'st so subtly with a king's repose ; 

I am a king, that find thee ; and 1 know, 

'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, 

The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, 

The enter-tissued robe of gold and pearl, 

The farced* title running 'fore the king, 

The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp 

That beats upon the high shore of this world, 

]STo, not all these, thrice gorgeous ceremony, 

Not all these, laid in bed majestical, 

Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave ; 

Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind, 

Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread ; 

Never sees horrid night, the child of hell ; 

But, like a lackey, from the rise to set, 

Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night 

Sleeps in Elysium ; next day, after dawn, 

Doth rise, and help Hyperion f to his horse ; 

And follows so the ever-running year 

With profitable labour to bis grave : 

And, but for ceremony, such a wretch, 

Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep, 

Had the fore-hand and Vantage of a king. 

DESCRIPTION OF THE MISERABLE STATE OF THE 
ENGLISH ARMY. 

Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, 
Ill-favour'dly become the morning field: 
Their ragged curtains J poorly are let loose, 
And our air shakes them passing scornfully. 
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, 
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. 
Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks, 
With torch-staves in their hand: and their poor jades 

* Farced is stuffed. The tumid puffy titles with which a 
king's name is introduced. t The sun. | Colours. 

p2 



102 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAKE. 

Lob down their heads, dropping* the hides and hips; 
The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes ; 
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal* bit 
Lies foul with chew'd grass still and motionless ; 
And their executors, the knavish crows, 
Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour. 

KING HENRY'S SPEECH BEFORE THE BATTLE OF 
AGINCOURT. 

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, 
Will stand a tiptoe when this day is nam'd, 
And rouse him at the name of Crispian. 
He, that shall live this day, and see old age, 
Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends, 
And say — to-rnorrow is Saint Crispian: 
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, 
And say, these wounds I had on Crispin's day. 
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot, 
But he'll remember, with advantages, 
What feats he did that day: Then shall our names, 
Familiar in their mouths as household words, — 
Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter, 
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster, — 
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd. 

DESCRIPTION OF THE DUKE OF YORK'S DEATH. 

He smiPd me in the face, raughtf me his hand, 
And, with a feeble gripe, says, — Dear my lord, 
Commend my service to my sovereign. 
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck 
He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips; 
And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd 
A testament of noble-ending love. 
The pretty and sweet manner of it fore'd 
Those waters from me, which I would have stopp'd; 
But I had not so much of man in me, 
But all my mother came into mine eyes, 
And gave me up to tears. 

* Riii£. t Readied. 



KING HENRY V. 163 



ACT V. 



THE MISERIES OF WAR. 



Her vine, the merry cbeerer of the heart, 
Unpruned dies: her hedges even-pleached, — 
Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair, 
Put forth disordered twigs: her fallow leas 
The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory, 
Doth root upon ; while that the coulter* rusts, 
That should deracinate f such savagery: 
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth 
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, 
Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, 
Conceives by idleness; and nothing teems, 
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, 
Losing both beauty and utility. 
And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges, 
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness. 



PART I. 



ACT I. 



GtORY. 

vjtlory is like a circle in the water, 

Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, 

(Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought. 

Ploughshare. t To deracinate is to force up the roots. 



164 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ACT V. 

MARRIAGE. 

Marriage is a matter of more worth 
Than to be dealt in by attorneyship*. 

* * * * * 

For what is wedlock forced, but a hell, 
An age of discord and continual strife ? 
Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss, 
And is a pattern of celestial peace. 



ting ®mtxn vi. 

PART II. 



ACT I. 



A RESOLVED AND AMBITIOUS WOMAN* 

Jb ollow I must, I cannot go before, 

AVhile Gloster bears this base and humble mind. 

Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, 

I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks, 

And smooth my way upon their headless necks : 

And, being a woman, I will not be slack 

To play my part in fortune's pageant. 



ACT II. 



GOD'S GOODNESS EVER TO BE REMEMBERED, 

Let never day nor night unhallowed pass, 
But still remember what the Lord hath done. 

* By the discretional agency of another. 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 165 

THE DUCHESS OF GLOSTER'S REMONSTRANCE TO HER 
HUSBAND, WHEN DOING PENANCE. 




For, whilst I think I am thy married wife, 
And, thou a prince, protector of this land, 
Methinks, I should not thus be led along, 
Mail'd up in shame*, with papers on my back; 
And folio w'd with a rabble, that rejoice 
To see my tears, and hear my deep-fetf groans. 
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet ; 
And, when I start, the envious people laugh, 
And bid me be advised how I tread. 



ACT III. 

SILENT RESENTMENT DEEPEST. 

Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deep; 
And in his simple show he harbours treason. 

A GUILTY COUNTENANCE. 

Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny 
Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world. 

* Wrapped up in disgrace; alluding to the sheet of penance, 
t Deep-fetched. 



166 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

DESCRIPTION OF A MURDERED PERSON. 

See how the blood is settled in his face! 
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost*, 
Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, 
Being all descended to the labouring heart; 
Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, 
Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy ; 
Which with the heart there cools and ne'er returneth 
To blush and beautify the cheek again. 
But, see, his face is black, and full of blood ; 
His eyeballs further out than when he hVd, 
Staring full ghastly like a strangled man: [gling; 
His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with strug- 
His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd 
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdu'd. 
Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking; 
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged, 
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd. 
It cannot be, but he was murder'd here ; 
The least of all these signs were probable. 

A GOOD CONSCIENCE. 

What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted ? 
Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just; 
And he but naked, though locked up in steel, 
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. 

REMORSELESS HATRED. 

A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse them? 
Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, 
I would invent as bitter-searching terms, 
As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, 
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth, 
With full as many signs of deadly hate, 
As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave : 
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words: 

* A body become inanimate in the common coarse of nature; 
to which violence has not brought a timeless end. 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 1G7 

Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; 
My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract ; 
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban: 
And even now my burden'd heart would break, 
Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink ! 
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste ! 
Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees ! 
Their chiefest prospect, murdering basilisks ! 
Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings ! 
Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss ; 
And boding screech-owls make the concert full! 
All foul terrors in dark-seated hell. 

***** 

Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, 
Well could I curse away a winter's night, 
Though standing naked on a mountain top, 
Where biting cold would never let grass grow. 

THE DEATH-RED HORRORS OF A GUILTY CONSCIENCE. 

Bring me unto my trial when you will. 
Died he not in his bed? where should he die? 
Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no? 
O! torture me no more, I will confess. — 
Alive again? then show me where he is ; 
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him. — 
He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. — 
Comb down his hair; look! look! it stands upright, 
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul! 
Give me some drink: and bid the apothecary 
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. 

DYING WITH THE PERSON BELOVED PREFERABLE TO 
PARTING. 

If I depart from thee, I cannot live : 
And in thy sight to die, what were it else, 
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? 
Here could I breathe my soul into the air, 
As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe, 
Dying with mother's dug between its lips. 



168 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 
PARTING LOVERS. 




And banish'd I am, if but from thee. 
Go, speak not to me ; even now be gone. — 
O, go not yet! — Even thus two friends condemn'd 
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, 
Loather a hundred times to part than die. 
Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee! 

Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished, 
Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee. 
'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence ; 
A wilderness is populous enough, 
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company: 
For where thou art, there is the world itself, 
With every several pleasure in the world ; 
And where thou art not, desolation. 



ACT IV. 

NIGHT. 



THE gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful* day- 
Is crept into the bosom of the sea; 



* Pitiful. 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 169 

And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades 
That drag the tragic melancholy night ; 
Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings 
Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws 
Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. 



Kent, in the commentaries Caesar writ, 
Is term'd the civil'st place of all this isle : 
Sweet is the country, because full of riches ; 
The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy. 

LORD SAY'S APOLOGY FOR HIMSELF. 

Justice with favour have I always done ; 
Prayers and tears have rnov'd me, gifts could never. 
When have I aught exacted at your hands, 
Kent to maintain, the king, the realm, and you? 
Large gifts have I bestowed on learned clerks, 
Because my book preferr'd me to the king: 
And — seeing ignorance is the curse of God, 
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven, — 
Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits, 
You cannot but forbear to murder me. 



mtns Wtenxn vi. 

PART III. 



ACT I. 

THE TRANSPORTS OF A CROWN. 

Do but think, 
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown ; 
Within whose circuit is Elysium, 
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. 






170 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

A HUNGRY LION. 

So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch 
That trembles under his devouring paws : 
And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey ; 
And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder. 

THE DUKE OF YORK ON THE GALLANT BEHAVIOUR OF 
HIS SONS. 

My sons — God knows what hath bechanced them: 
But this I know, — they have demean'd themselves 
Like men born to renown, by life, or death. 
Three times did Richard make a lane to me; 
And thrice cried, — Courage, father ! fight it out ! 
And full as oft came Edward to my side, 
With purple falchion, painted to the hilt 
In blood of those that had encounter'd him : 
And when the hardiest warriors did retire, 
Richard cried — Charge ! and give no foot of ground ! 
And cried, — A crown, or else a glorious tomb ! 
A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre ! 
With this, we charg'd again: but, out, alas! 
We bodg'd * again ; as I have seen a swan 
With bootless labour swim against the tide, 
And spend her strength with over-matching waves. 

A FATHER'S PASSION ON THE MURDER OF A FAVOURITE 
CHILD. 

O, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide ! 
How could'st thou drain the life-blood of the child, 
To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, 
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face ? 
Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible ; 
Thou, stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. 

***** 
That face of his the hungry cannibals 

* i. e. We boggled, made bad, or bungling work of our 
attempt to rally. 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 171 

Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with 

blood : 
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, — 
O, ten times more, — than tigers of Hyrcania. 
See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears: 
This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy, 
And I with tears do wash the blood away. 
Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this : 
And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right, 
Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears ; 
Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, 
And say,— Alas, it was a piteous deed ! 



ACT II. 



THE DUKE OF YORK IN BATTLE. 

Methought, he bore him* in the thickest troop, 
As doth a lion in a herd of neatf; 
Or as a bear, encompassed round with dogs ; 
Who having pinch'd a few, and made them cry, 
The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. 

MORNING. 

See, how the morning opes her golden gates, 
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun J! 
How well resembles it the prime of youth, 
Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love ! 

THE MORNING'S DAWN. 

This battle fares like to the morning's war, 
When dying clouds contend with growing light ; 
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, 
Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. 

* Demeaned himself. f Neat cattle, cows, oxen, &c. 

+ Aurora takes for a time her farewell of the sud, when she 
dismisses him to his diurnal course. 



171 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

THE BLESSINGS OF A SHEPHERD'S LIFE. 




'Would I were dead ! if God's good will were so; 
For what is in this world, but grief and woe? 
O God! methinks, it were a happy life, 
To be no better than a homely swain; 
To sit upon a hill, as T do now, 
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, 
Thereby to see the minutes how they run : 
How many make the hour full complete, 
How many hours bring about the day, 
How many days will finish up the year, 
How many years a mortal man may live. 
When this is known, then to divide the times : 
So many hours must I tend my flock; 
So many hours must I take my rest; 
So many hours must I contemplate ; 
So many hours must I sport myself; 
So many days my ewes have been with young ; 
So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean ; 
So many years ere I shall shear the fleece ; 
So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, 
Pass'd over to the end they were created, 
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 173 

Ah, what a life were this ! how sweet! how lovely' 

Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 

To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, 

Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy 

To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? 

O, yes it doth; a thousand-fold it doth. 

And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, 

His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, 

His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, 

All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, 

Is far beyond a prince's delicates, 

His viands sparkling in a golden cup, 

His body couched in a curious bed, 

When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him. 



ACT III. 



NO STABILITY IN A MOB. 

Look, as I blow this feather from my face, 
And as the air blows it to me again, 
Obeying with my wind when I do blow, 
And yielding to another when it blows, 
Commanded always by the greater gust ; 
Such is the lightness of you common men. 

A SIMILE ON AMBITIOUS THOUGHTS. 

Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty ; 
Like one that stands upon a promontory, 
And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, 
Wishing his foot were equal with his eye ; 
And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, 
Saying — he'll lade it dry to have his way. 

GLOSTER'S DEFORMITY. 

Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb ? 
And, for I should not deal in her soft laws 
She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe 
To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub; 
Q 2 



174 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

To make an envious mountain on my back, 
Where sits deformity to mock my body ; 
To shape my legs of an unequal size ; 
To disproportion me in every part, 
Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear- whelp, 
That carries no impression like the dam. 
And am I then a man to be belov'd? 

gloster's dissimulation. 

Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile ; 
And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart ; 
And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, 
And frame my face to all occasions. 
I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall ; 
I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; 
I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, 
Deceive more slily than Ulysses could, 
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy: 
I can add colours to the cameleon ; 
Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages, 
And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school. 
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown? 



ACT IV. 



HENRY VI. ON HIS OWN LENITY. 

I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands, 
Nor posted off their suits with slow delays; 
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, 
My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs, 
My mercy dry'd their water-flowing tears : 
I have not been desirous of their wealth, 
Nor much oppressed them with great subsidies, 
Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd. 






THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 175 

ACT V. 

DYING SPEECH OF THE EARL OF WARWICK. 

Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend, or foe, 
And tell me, who is victor, York, or Warwick ? 
Why ask I that? my mangled body shows, 
My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows, 
That I must yield my body to the earth, 
And, by my fall the conquest to my foe. 
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, 
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, 
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept; 
Whose top-branch over-peer'd Jove's spreading tree, 
And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. 
These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black 
Have been as piercing as the mid- day sun, [veil, 
To search the secret treasons of the world: 
The wrinkles in my brows now fill'd with blood, 
Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres ; 
For who hVd king, but I could dig his grave? 
And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow ? 
Lo, now my glory's smear'd in dust and blood! 
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, 
Even now forsake me ; and, of all my lands, 
Is nothing left me, but my body's length ! 

QUEEN MARGARET'S SPEECH BEFORE THE BATTLE OF 
TEW KS BURY. 

Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say, 
My tears gainsay*; for every word I speak, 
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes. [reign. 

Therefore, no more but this : — Henry, your sove- 
Is prisoner to the foe ; his state usurp'd, 
His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, 
His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent ; 
And yonder is the wolf, that makes this spoil. 
You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords, 
Be valiant, and give signal to the fight. 

* Unsay, deny. 



173 BJEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

OMENS ON THE BIRTH OF RICHARD III. 

The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign; 
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time ; 
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees ; 
The raven rook'd* her on the chimney's top, 
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung. 
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, 
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope; 
To wit, — an indigest deformed lump, 
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. 
Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast born, 
To signify,--thou cam'st to bite the world. 



mm Ktetiarir in. 



ACT I. 

THE DUKE OF GLOSTER ON HIS OWN DEFORMITY. 

JNlow are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; 

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ; 

Our stern alarums ehang'd to merry meetings, 

Our dreadful marches to delightful measuresf, 

Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; 

And now, — instead of mounting barbed J steeds, 

To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, — 

He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, 

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. 

But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, 

Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass ; 

I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty, 

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ; 

I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, 

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, 

* To rook, signified to squat down or lodge on any tiling. 
t Dance*. { Armed. 



KING RICHARD III. 177 

Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time 
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, 
And that so lamely and unfashionable, 
That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them ; — 
Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, 
Have no delight to pass away the time ; 
Unless to spy ray shadow in the sun, 
And descant on mine own deformity ; 
And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover, 
To entertain these fair well-spoken days, — 
I am determined to prove a villain, 
And hate the idle pleasures of these days. 

GLOSTER'S LOVE FOR LADY ANNE. 

Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, 
Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops: 
These eyes, which never shed remorseful* tear, — 
Not, when my father York and Edward wept, 
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made, 
When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him : 
Nor when thy war-like father, like a child. 
Told the sad story of my father's death ; 
And twenty times made pause, to sob, and weep, 
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks, 
Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time, 
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ; 
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, 
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. 
I never su'd to friend, nor enemy ; 
My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word ; 
But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, 
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak . 

gloster's praises of his own person, after his 
successful addresses. 

My dukedom to a beggarly denierf, 
I do mistake my person all this while : 
Upon my life, she finds, though I cannot, 

* Pitiful, t A small French coin, 



178 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Myself to be a marvellous proper man. 
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass ; 
And entertain a score or two of tailors, 
To study fashions to adorn my body : 
Since I am crept in favour with myself, 
I will maintain it with some little cost. 

QUEEN MARGARET'S EXECRATIONS ON GLOSTER. 

The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul ! 
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st, 
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends! 
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,, 
Unless it be while some tormenting dream 
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils! 
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog! 
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity 
The slave of nature, and the son of hell ! 
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb ! 
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins! 
Thou rag of honour, thou detested 

HIGH BIRTH. 

I was born so high, 
Our aiery * buildeth in the cedar's top, 
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. 

gloster's hypocrisy. 
But then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture, 
Tell them — that God bids us do good for evil ; 
And thus I clothe my naked villany 
With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ; 
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. 

clarence's dream. 

What was your dream, my lord? I pray yon, tell me. 

Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the Tower, 
And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy : 
And, in my company, my brother Gloster; 
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 
Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward England, 

* Nest. 



KING RICHARD III. 179 

And cited up a thousand heavy times, 
During the wars of York and Lancaster 
That had befall 'n us. As we pac'd along 
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,, 
Methought that Gloster stumbled ; and, in falling, 
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, 
Into the tumbling billows of the main. 

Lord ! methought, what pain it was to drown ! 
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears! 
"What sights of ugly death within mine eyes! 
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; 

A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon ; 

Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 

Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, 

All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea, 

Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and, in those holes 

Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept 

(As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, 

That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, 

And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. 

Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death, 
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep ? 

Clar. Methought, I had ; and often did I strive 
To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood 
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth 
To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air : 
But smother'd it within my panting bulk*, 
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. 

Brak. Awak'd } r ou not with this sore agony ? 

Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life ; 
O, then began the tempest to my soul! 

1 pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, 
With that grim ferryman which poets write of, 
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 

The first that there did greet my stranger soul, 
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, 
Who cry'd aloud, — What scourge for perjury 
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ? 

* Body. 



180 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And so he vanishd: Then came wand'ring by 
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 
Dabbled in blood ; and he shriek'd out aloud, — 
Clarence is come, — -false fleeting, perjured Clarence y— •» 
That staWd me in the field by Tewksbury ; — 
Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments! 
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends 
Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears 
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise, 
I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after, 
Could not believe but that I was in hell ; 
Such terrible impression made my dream. 

Brak, No marvel, lord, though it affrighted you ! 
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. 

Clar. O, Brakenbury, I have done these things — 
That now give evidence against my soul, — 
For Edward's sake ; and see how he requites me ! — 
O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, 
But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds, 
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone : 
O, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children ! 



Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours, 
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. 

THE CARES OF GREATNESS. 

Princes have but their titles for their glories, 
An outward honour for an inward toil; 
And, for unfelt imaginations, 
They often feel a world of restless cares: 
So that, between their titles and low name, 
There's nothing differs but the outward fame. 

a murderer's account of conscience. 
I'll not meddle with it, it is a dangerous thing, it 
makes a man a coward ; a man cannot steal, but it 
accuseth him; a man cannot swear, but it checks 
him ; a man cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but 
it detects him : 'Tis a blushing shame-faced spirit, that 



KING RICHARD III, 181 

mutinies in a man's bosom ; it fills one full of obsta- 
cles: it made me once restore a purse of gold, that 
by chance I found ; it beggars any man that keeps it : 
it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous 
thing; and every man, that means to live well, en- 
deavours to trust to himself, and live without it. 



ACT II. 



Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, 
And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice ! 

SUBMISSION TO HEAVEN OCR DUTY. 

In common worldly thiugs, 'tis call'd— ungrateful, 
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt, 
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; 
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, 
For it requires the royal debt it lent you. 

THE DUCHESS OF YORK'S LAMENTATION ON THE MIS- 
FORTUNCS OF HER FAMILY. 

Duch. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days! 
How many of you have mine eyes beheld? 
My husband lost his life to get the crown ; 
And often up and down my sons were tost, 
For me to joy and weep, their gam and loss : 
And being seated, and domestic broils 
Clean overblown, themselves, the conquerors, 
Make war upon themselves ; brother to brother, 
Blood to blood, self 'gainst self: — O, preposterous 
And frantic courage, end thy damned spleen ; 
Or let me die, to look on death no more ! 



ACT HI. 



THE VANITY OF TRUST IN MAN. 

O momentary grace of mortal men, 
Which we more hunt for than the grace of God ! 
R 



182 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks, 
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast ; 
Ready, with every nod, to tumble down 
Into the fatal bowels of the deep. 

CONTEMPLATION. 

When holy and devout religious men 
Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence; 
So sweet is zealous contemplation. 



ACT IV. 



DESCRIPTION OF THE MURDER OF THE TWO YOUNG 
PRINCES IN THE TOWER. 

The tyrannous and bloody act is done ; 

The most arch deed of piteous massacre, 

That ever yet this land was guilty of. 

Dighton, and Forrest, whom I did suborn 

To do this piece of ruthless* butchery, 

Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, 

Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, 

Wept like two children, in their death's sad story. 

O thus, cjuoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes, 

Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another 

Within their alabaster innocent arms : 

Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, 

Which, in their summer beauty, hiss 7 d each other. 

A book of prayers on their pillow lay : 

Which once, quoth Forrest, almost changed my mind; 

But, O, the devil — there the villain stopp'd ; 

When Dighton thus told on, — we smothered 

The most replenished sweet work of nature, 

That, from the prime creation, e J er sheframd. — 

Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse, 

They could not speak : and so I left them both, 

To bear this tidings to the bloody king. 



* Merciless. 






KING RICHARD III. 183 

QUEEN MARGARET'S EXPR0BATJ0N. 




Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy the time would 
come, 
That I should wish for thee to help me curse 
That bottled spider, that foul hunch-back'd toad. 

Q. Mar. I call'd thee then, ^ain flourish of my 
fortune ; 
I calPd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen : 
The presentation of but what 1 was, 
The flattering index* of a direful pageant, 
One heav'd a high to be hurl'd down below: 
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes; 
A dream of what thou wast; a garish f flag, 
To be the aim of every dangerous shot ; 
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble ; 
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. 
Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers? 
Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy? 
Who sues, and kneels, and says — God save the queen ? 
Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee? 
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee? 
Decline all this, and see what now thou art. 
For happy wife, a most distressed widow ; 
For joyful mother, one that wails the name ; 

* Indexes were anciently placed at the beginning of books, 
t Flaring. 



384 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

For one being sued to, one that humbly sues ; 
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care ; 
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me; 
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one ; 
For one commanding all, obey'd of none. 
Thus hath the course of justice wheei'd about, 
And left thee but a very prey to time ; 
Haying no more but thought of what thott wert, 
To torture thee the more, being what thou art. 

EXPEDITION. 

Come, — I have learned, that fearful commenting 
Is leaden servitor to dull delay ; 
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary : 
Then fiery expedition be my wing, 
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king! 

CHARACTER OF KING RICHARD BY HIS MOTHER. 

Tetchy* and wayward was thy infancy; [rious ; 
Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and fu- 
Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and venturous; 
Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody. 



ACT V. 



True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings, 
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. 

A FINE EVENING. 

The weary sun hath made a golden set, 
And, by the bright track of his fiery car, 
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. 

DAY-BREAK. 

The silent hours steal on, 
And flaky darkness breaks within the east. 






Touchy, fretful. 



KING RICHARD III. 



185 



RICHARD STARTING OUT OF HIS DREAM. 




Give me another horse, — bind up my wounds,- 
Have mercy, Jesu !— Soft, I did but dream. — 
O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me !- 
The lights burn blue. — It is. now dead midnight. 
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
What do I fear? myself? 

Richmond's prayer. 

O Thou ! whose captain I account myself, 
Look on my forces with a gracious eye ; 
Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, 
That they may crush down with a heavy fall 
The usurping helmets of our adversaries? 
Make us thy ministers of chastisement, 
That we may praise thee in thy victory ! 
To thee 1 do commend my watchful soul, 
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes ; 
Sleeping, and waking! O, defend me still! 



CONSCIENCE. 



Conscience is but a word that cowards use, 
Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe. 
r2 



186 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

RICHARD'S ADDRESS BEFORE THE BATTLE. 

A thousand hearts are great within my bosom : 
Advance our standards, set upon our foes ; 
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, 
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons ! 
Upon them ! Victory sits on our helms. 

RICHARD'S BEHAVIOUR AFTER AN ALARUM. 

A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! 

Cate. Withdraw, my lord, I'll help you to a horse. 

K. Rich. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, 
And I will stand the hazard of the die : 
I think, there be six Richmonds in the field ; 
Five have I slain to-day instead of him: 
A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! 



iUng ftenrs vm. 



ACT I. 

ANGER. 

1 o climb steep hills, 
Requires slow pace at first: Anger is like 
A full-hot horse ; who being allowed his way, 
Self-mettle tires him. 

ACTION TO BE CARRIED ON WITH RESOLUTION. 

If I am traduc'd by tongues, which neither know 
My faculties, nor person, yet will be 
The chronicles of my doing, — let me say, 
'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake* 
That virtue must go through. AVe must not stint f 

* Thicket of thorns. t Retard. 



KING HENRY VIII. 187 

Our necessary actions, in the fear 

To cope * malicious censurers ; which ever, 

As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow 

That is new trimm'd ; but benefit no further 

Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, 

By sick interpreters, oncef weak ones, is 

Not ours, or not allow'd I ; what worst, as oft, 

Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up 

For our best act. If we shall stand still, 

In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at, 

We should take root here where we sit, or sit 

State statues only. 

NEW CUSTOMS. 

New customs, 
Though they be never so ridiculous, . 
Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are followed. 



ACT II. 

THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM'S PRAYER FOR THE KING. 

May he live 
Longer than I have time to tell his years ! 
Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be ! 
And, when old time shall lead him to his end, 
Goodness and he fill up one monument! 

DEPENDENTS NOT TO BE TOO MUCH TRUSTED BY GREAT 
MEN. 

This from a dying man receive as certain: 
Where you are liberal of your loves, and counsels, 
Be sure you be not loose : for those you make friends. 
And give your hearts to, when they once perceive 
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away 
Like water from ye, never found again 
But where they mean to sink ye. 

* Encounter. t Sometime. | Approved. 



188 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

A GOOD WIFE. 

A loss of her, 
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years 
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre : 
Of her, that loves him with that excellence 
That angels love good men with ; even of her 
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, 
Will bless the king. 

THE BLESSINGS OF A LOW STATION. 

'Tis better to be lowly born, 
And range with humble livers in content, 
Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, 
And wear a golden sorrow. 

queen Katharine's speech to her husband. 

Alas, sir, 
In what have I offended you? what cause 
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure, 
That thus you should proceed to put me off, 
And take your good grace from me ? Heaven witness, 
I have been to you a true and humble wife, 
At all times to your will conformable : 
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, 
Yea, subject to your countenance : glad, or sorry, 
As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour, 
I ever contradicted your desire, 
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends 
Have I not strove to love, although I knew 
He were mine enemy ? what friend of mine 
That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I 
Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice 
He was from thence discharged ? Sir, call to mind 
That I have been your wife, in this obedience, 
Upward of twenty years, and have been blest 
With many children by you : If, in the course 
And process of this time, you can report, 
And prove it too, against mine honour aught, 
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty, 



KING HENRY VIII. 169 

Against your sacred person, in God's name, 
Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt 
Shut door upon me, and so give me up 
To the sharpest kiud of justice. 

QUEEN KATHARINE'S SPEECH TO CARDINAL WOLSEY. 

You are meek, and huruble-mouth'd ; 
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming *, 
With meekness and humility: but your heart 
Is cramin'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. 
You have, by fortune, and his highness' favours, 
Gone slightly o'er low steps ; and now are mounted 
Where powers are your retainers : and your words, 
Domestics to you, serve your will, as't please 
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you, 
You tender more your person's honour, than 
Your high profession spiritual. 

KING HENRY'S CHARACTER OF QUEEN KATHARINE. 

That man i' the world, who shall report he has 
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted, 
For speaking false in that : Thou art, alone, 
(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, 
Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, — 
Obeying in commanding, — and thy parts 
Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee outf,) 
The queen of earthly queens. 



ACT III. 

QUEEN KATHARINE ON HER OWN MERIT. 

Have I liv'd thus long— (let me speak myself, 

Since virtue finds no friends,) — a wife, a true one ? 

A woman (I dare say, without vainglory,) 

Never yet branded with suspicion? 

Have I with all my full affections 

Still met the king? lov'd him next heaven? obey'dhim ? 

* Appearance. f Speak out thy merits. 



190 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him*? 
Almost forgot my prayers to content him? 
And am I thus rewarded ? 'tis not well, lords, 
Bring me a constant woman to her husband, 
One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure; 
And to that woman, when she has done most, 
Yet will I add an honour, — a great patience. 

QUEEN KATHARINE COMPARED TO A LILY. 

Like the lily 
That once was mistress of the field, and flourished, 
I'll hang my head, and perish. 

OUTWARD EFFECTS OF HORROR. 

Some strange commotion 
Is in his brain : he bites his lip, and starts ; 
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, 
Then, lays his finger on his temple ; straight, 
Springs out into fast gaitf; then, stops again, 
Strikes his breast hard; and anon, he casts 
His eye against the moon: in most strange postures 
We have seen him set himself. 

FIRM ALLEGIANCE. 

Though perils did 
Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and 
Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty, 
As doth a rock against the chiding flood, 
Should the approach of this wild river break, 
And stand unshaken yours. 

EXTERNAL EFFECTS OF ANGER. 

What sudden anger's this ? how have I reap'd it? 
He parted frowning from me, as if ruin 
Leap'd from his eyes : So looks the chafed lion 
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall 7 d him ; 
Then makes him nothing. 

* Served him with superstitious attention. t Steps. 



KING HENRY Vill. 



191 



THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 




So farewell to the little good you bear me. 
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! 
This is the state of man ; To-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms. 
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : 
The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; 
And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, 
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
This many summers in a sea of glory ; 
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me; and now has left me, 
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. 
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye ; 
I feel my heart new open'd : O, how wretched 
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours ! 
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, 
More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; 
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again. 



192 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

FALLING GREATNESS. 

Nay then, farewell ! 
I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness; 
And, from that full meridian of my glory, 
I haste now to my setting ; I shall fall 
Like a bright exhalation in the evening, 
And no man see me more. 

CARDINAL WOLSEY's SPEECH TO CROMWELL. 

Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 
In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me 
Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. 
Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell: 
And, — when I am forgotten, as I shall be ; 
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention 
Of me more must be heard of, — say, I taught thee, 
Say, Wolsey, — that once trod the ways of glory, 
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, — 
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ; 
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. 
Mark hut my fall, and that that ruin'd me. 
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition ; 
By that sin fell the angels, how can man then, 
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't? 
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee ; 
Corruption wins not more than honesty. 
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: 
Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, 
Thy God's, and truth's ; then if thou fall'st,0 Cromwell, 
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king; 
And, — IVythee, lead me in : 
There take an inventory of all I have, 
To the last penny: 'tis the king's: my robe, 
And my integrity to heaven, is all 
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, 
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal 
I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age 
Have left me naked to mine enemies. 



KING HENRY VIII. 193 

OBEDIENCE TO PRINCES. 

The hearts of princes kiss obedience, 
So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits, 
They swell, and grow as terrible as storms. 



ACT IV. 



APPLAUSE. 

Such a noise arose 
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, 
As loud, and to as many tunes : hats, cloaks, 
(Doublets, I think, flew up ; and had their faces 
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy 
I never saw before. Great-bellied women, 
That had not half a week to go, like rams 
In the old time _ of war, would shake the press, 
And make them reel before them. No man living 
Could say, This is my wife; there all were woven 
So strangely in one piece. 

CARDINAL WOLSEY'S DEATH. 

At last, with easy roads*, he came to Leicester, 
Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot, 
With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him ; 
To whom he gave these words, — O father abbot, 
An old man, broken with the storms of state, 
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; 
Give him a little earth for charity ! , 
So went to bed : where eagerly his sickness 
Pursued him still; and three nights after this, 
About the hour of eight, (which he himself 
Foretold, should be his last,) full of repentance, 
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, 
He gave his honours to the world again, 
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 

* By short stages. 



194 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



WOLSEY'S VICES AND VIRTUES. 

So may he rest ; his faults lie gently on him ! 
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak hiin, 
And yet with charity,— He was a man 
Of an unbounded stomach*, ever ranking 
Himself with princes; one, that by suggestion 
Ty'd all the kingdom : simony was fair play; 
His own opinion was his law : I' the presence f 
He would say untruths ; and be ever double, 
Both in his words and meaning : He was never, 
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful: 
His promises were, as he then was, mighty ; 
But his performance, as he is now, nothing, 
Of his own body he was ill, and gave 
The clergy ill example. 

Grif. Noble madam, 

Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues 
We write in water. 

***** 

This cardinal, 
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
Was fashion'd to J much honour. From his cradle, 
He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one ; 
Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading : 
Lofty and sour, to them that lov'd him not ; 
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer, 
And, though he were unsatisfied in getting, 
(Which was a sin), yet in bestowing, madam, 
He was most princely : Ever witness for him 
Those twins, of learning that he rais'd in you, 
Ipswich, and Oxford! one§ of which fell with him, 
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; 
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, 
So excellent in art, and still so rising, 
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ; 

* Pride. t Of the king. | Formed for. $lpswicli. 



KING HENRY VIII. 195 

For then, and not till then, he felt himself, 
And found the blessedness of being little ; 
And, to add greater honours to his age 
Thau man could give him, he died, fearing God. 



ACT V. 



MALICIOUS MEN. 

Men that make 
Envy, and crooked malice, nourishment, 
Dare bite the best. 

A CHURCHMAN. 

Love and meekness, lord, 
Become a churchman better than ambition ; 
AVin straying souls with modesty again, 
Cast none away. 

INHUMANITY. 

; Tis a cruelty, 
To load a falling man. 

ARCHBISHOP CRANMER'S PROPHECY. 

Let rue speak, sir, 
For heaven now bids me ; and the words I utter 
Let none think flattery, for they'll find them truth. 
This royal infant, (heaven still move about her !) 
Though in her cradle, yet now promises 
Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, 
Which iiine shall bring to ripeness: She shall be 
(But few now living can behold that goodness), 
A pattern to all princes living with her, 
And all that shall succeed: Sheba was never 
More covetous of wisdom, and fair virtue, 
Than this pure soul shall be : all princely graces, 
That mould up such a mighty piece as this is, 
With all the virtues that attend the good, 
Shall still be doubled on her : truth shall nurse her, 



196 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her, 

She shall be lov'd, and fear'd: Her own shall bless her : 

Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, 

And hang their heads with sorrow : God grows with 

her: 
In her days, every man shall eat in safety 
Under his own vine, what he plants ; and sing 
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours: 
God shall be truly known ; and those about her 
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, 
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. 
Nor shall this peace sleep with her : But as when 
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, 
Her ashes new create another heir, 
As great in admiration as herself; 
So shall she leave her blessedness to one, 
(When heaven shall call her from this cloud of dark- 
ness,) 
Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour, 
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, 
And so stand fix 7 d : Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, 
That were the servants to this chosen infant, 
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him ; 
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, 
His honour and the greatness of his name 
Shall be, and make new nations : He shall flourish, 
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches 
To all the plains about him: Our children's chil- 
dren 
Shall sec this, and bless heaven. 



3Seatttte£ irt &f>aftsjpeare< 



PART THE THIRD. 



TRAGEDIES. 



s2 



&ntott# attfr (KUopatva. 



ACT I. 

CLEOPATRA'S SOLICITUDE ON THE ABSENCE OF ANTONY. 




Charmian, 

Where think'st thou he is now ? Stands he, or sits he ? 
Or does he walk? or is he on his horse ? 
O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony ! 
Do bravely, horse ! for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st? 
The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm 
And burgonet* of men. — He's speaking now, 
Or murm'ring, Where's my serpent of old Nile ? 
For so he calls me; Now I feed myself 
With most delicious poison: — Think on me, 
That am with Phoebus' am'rous pinches black, 
And wrinkled deep in time ? Broad-fronted Caesar, 
When thou wast here above the ground, I was 
A morsel for a monarch : and great Porapey 
Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow : 
There would he anchor his aspect, and die 
With his looking on his life. 

* A helmet. 






200 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

LOVE THE NOBLENESS OF LIFE. 

Let Rome in Tyber melt ! and the wide arch 
Of the rang'd empire fall ! Here is my space ; 
Kingdoms are clay : our dungy earth alike 
Feeds beast as man : the nobleness of life 
Is to do thus ; when such a mutual pair, 

[Embracing. 
And such a twain can do't, in which, I bind 
On pain of punishment, the world to weet*, 
We stand up peerless. 

Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her? — 
I'll seem the fool I am not; Antony 
Will be himself. 

Ant. But stirr'd by Cleopatra. — 

Now, for the love of Love, and her soft hours. 

Antony's vices and virtues. 
I must not think, there are 
Evils enough to darken all his goodness: 
His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven, 
More fiery by night's blackness ; hereditary, 
Rather than purchased f ; what he cannot change, 
Than what he chooses. 

Cces. You are too indulgent : Let us grant, it is not 
Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy; 
To give a kingdom for a mirth ; to sit 
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave; 
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet 
With knaves that smell of sweat: say, this becomes 

him, 
(As his composure must be rare indeed, 
Whom these things cannotblemish,)yetmust Antony 
No way excuse his soils, when we do bear 
So great weight in his lightness J. If he fill'd 
His vacancy with his voluptuousness, 
Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones, 
Call on him§ for't: but, to confound ]| such time 



* Know. + Procured by liis own fault. 

\ Levity. $ Visit him. || Consume. 






ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 201 

That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud 

As his own state and ours, — 'tis to be chid 

As we rate boys; who, being mature in knowledge, 

Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, 

And so rebel to judgment. 

Antony, 

Leave thy lascivious wassals*. When thou once 

Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st 

Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel 

Did famine follow ; whom thou fought'st against, 

Though daintily brought up, with patience more 

Than savages could suffer : Thou didst drink 

The stale f of horses, and the gilded puddle 1 

Which beasts would cough at : thy palate then did 

deign 
The roughest berry on the rudest hedge ; 
Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets, 
The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps 
It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh, 
Which some did die to look on : And all this 
(It wounds thine honour, that I speak it now,) 
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek 
So much as lank'd not. 



ACT II. 

THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES. 

We, ignorant of ourselves, 
Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers 
Deny us for our good ; so find we profit, 
By losing of our prayers. 

DESCRIPTION OF CLEOPATRA SAILING DOWN THE CYDN US. 

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, 
Burn'd on the water : the poop was beaten gold ; 
Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that [silver ; 

The winds were love-sick with them : the oars were 

* Feastings ; in the old copy it is vaissaiks, i. e. vassals. 
t Urine. J Stagnant, slimy water. 



202 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made 
The water which they beat, to follow faster, 
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, 
It beggar'd all description : she did lie 
In her pavilion, (cloth of gold, of tissue,) 
O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see, 
The fancy out-work nature: on each side her, 
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, 
With diverse-coloured fans, whose wind did seem 
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, 
And what they undid, did*. 

Agr. O, rare for Antony ! 

Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, 
So many mermaids tended her i' the eyes, 
And made their bends adornings : at the helm 
A seeming mermaid steers ; the silken tackle 
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands, 
That yarelyf frame the office. From the barge 
A strange invisible perfume hits the sense 
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast 
Her people out upon her ; and Antony, 
Enthron'd in the market-place, did sit alone, 
Whistling to the air ; which, but for vacancy, 
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, 
And made a gap in nature. 

CLEOPATRA'S INFINITE POWER IN PLEASING. 

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale 
Her infinite variety : Other women 
Cloy th' appetites they feed; but she makes hungry 
Where most she satisfies. For vilest things 
Become themselves in her; that the holy priests 
Bless her, when she's riggish|. 

THE UNSETTLED HUMOURS OF LOVERS. 

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas. 
Cleo. Give me some music; music, moody § food 
Of us that trade in love. 
Attend, The music, ho! 

* Added to the warmth they were intended to diminish. 
t Readily perform. \ Wanton. $ Melancholy. 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 203 

Enter Mardian. 

Cleo. Let it alone ; let us to billiards : 
Come, Chairman. 

Char. My arm is sore, best play with Mardian. 

Cleo. As well a woman with an eunuch play'd, 
As with a woman: — Come, you'll play with me, sir? 

Mar. As well as I can, madam. 

Cleo. And when good will is show'd, though it 
come too short, 
The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now : — 
Give me mine angle, — We'll to the river : there, 
My music playing far off, I will betray 
Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce 
Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up, 
I'll think them every one an Antony, 
And say, Ah, ha! you're caught. 

Char. ? Twas merry, when 

You wager'd on your angling ; when your diver 
Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he 
With fervency drew up. 

Cleo. That time! — O times!— 

I laugh' d him out of patience ; and that night 
I laugh'd him into patience : and next morn, 
Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed ; 
Then put my tires* and mantles on him, whilst 
I wore his sword Philippan. 



ACT III. 

LOYALTY. 



Mine honesty, and I, begin to square f. 
The loyalty, well held to fools, does make 
Our faith mere folly; — Yet, he, that can endure 
To follow with allegiance a fallen lord, 
Doth conquer him that did his master conquer, 
And earns a place i' the story. 

* Head dress. t Quarrel. 






204 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

AMBITION JEALOUS OF A TOO SUCCESSFUL FRIEND, 

O Silius, Silius, 
I have done enough : A lower place, note well, 
May make too great an act : For learn this, Silius ; 
Better leave undone, than by our deed acquire 
Too high a fame, when him we serve's away. 

WHAT OCTAVIA'S ENTRANCE SHOULD HAVE BEEN. 

Why have you stol'n upon us thus? You come not 
Like Caesar's sister : The wife of Antony 
Should have an army for an usher, and 
The neighs of horse to tell of her approach, 
Long ere she did appear; the trees by the way, 
Should have borne men; and expectation fainted, 
Longing for what it had not: nay, the dust 
Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, 
Raised by your populous troops : But you are come 
A market-maid to Rome; and have prevented 
The ostent* of our love, which, left unshown 
Is often left unlov'd: we should have met you 
By sea, and land ; supplying every stage 
With an augmented greeting. 

WOMEN. 

Women are not, 
In their best fortunes, strong; but want will perjure 
The ne'er-touch 'd vestal. 

FORTUNE FORMS OUR JUDGMENTS. 

I see, men's judgments are 
A parcelf of their fortunes: and things outward 
Do draw the inward quality after them, 
To suffer all alike. 

WISDOM SUPERIOR TO FORTUNE. 

Wisdom and fortune combating together, 
If that the former dare but what it can, 
No chance may shake it. 

* Show, token. t Are of a piece with them. 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 205 

VICIOUS PERSONS INFATUATED BY HEAVEN. 

Good, my lord, — 
But when we in our viciousness grow hard, 
(O misery on't?) the wise gods seal* our eyes; 
In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us 
Adore our errors; laugh at us, while we strut 
To our confusion. 

FURY EXPELS FEAR. 

Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious, 
Is, to be frighted out of fear ; and in that mood, 
The dove will peck the estridge f ; and I see still 
A diminution in our captain's brain 
Restores his heart : When valour preys on reason, 
It eats the sword it fights with. 



ACT IV. 



EARLY RISING THE WAY TO EMINENCE. 

This morning, like the spirit of a youth 
That means to be of note, begins betimes. 

ANTONY TO CLEOPATRA, AT HIS RETURN WITH VICTORY. 

O, thou day o' the world, 
Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all, 
Through proof of harness J to my heart, and there 
Ride on the pants triumphing. 

A MASTER TAKING LEAVE OF HIS SERVANTS. 

Tend me to-night; 
May be, it is the period of your duty : 
Haply §, you shall not see me more ; or if, 
A mangled shadow : perchance, to-morrow 
You'll serve another master. I look on you, 
As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends, 

* Close up. t Ostrich. X Armour of proof. 
§ Perhaps. 



206 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

I turn you not away ; but, like a master 
Married to your good service, stay till death: 
Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more, 
And the gods yield * you for't ! 

LOATHED LIFE. 

O, sovereign mistress of true melancholy, 
The poisonous damp of night dispongef upon me; 
That life, a very rebel to my will, 
May hang no longer on me. 

ANTONYS DESPONDENCY. 

O, sun, thy uprise shall I see no more : 
Fortune and Antony part here; even here 
Do we shake hands. — All come to this?— The hearts 
That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave 
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets 
On blossoming Caesar; and this pine is bark'd, 
That overtopp'd them all. 

DEPARTING GREATNESS. 

The soul and body rive J not more in parting, 
Than greatness going off. 

ANTONY'S REFLECTIONS ON HIS FADED GLORY. 

Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish: 
A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion, 
A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock, 
A forked mountain, or blue promontory 
With trees upon't, that nod unto the world, [signs; 
And mock our eyes with air: Thou hast seen these 
They are black vespers pageants. 

Eros. Ay, my lord. 

Ant, That, which is now a horse, even with a 
thought, 
The rack§ dislimns; and makes it indistinct, 
As water is in water. 

* Reward. 

t Discharge, as a sponge when squeezed discharges the mois- 
ture it had imbibed. \ Split. § The fleeting clouds. 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 207 

Eros. It does, my lord. 

Ant. My good knave*, Eros, now thy captain is 
Even such a body : here I am Antony ; 
Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave. 
I made these wars for Egypt ; and the queen, — 
Whose heart, I thought I had, for she had mine ; 
Which, whilst it was mine, had annex't unto't 
A million more, now lost, — she, Eros, has 
Pack'd cards with Caesar, and false play'd my glory 
Unto an enemy's triumph. — 
Nay, weep not, gentle Eros ; there is left us 
Ourselves to end ourselves. 

DESCRIPTION OF CLEOPATRA'S SUPPOSED DEATH. 

Death of one person can be paid but once : 
And that she has discharg'd: What thou would'st do, 
Is done unto thy hand ; the last she spake 
Was Antony! most noble Antony! 
Then in the midst a tearing groan did break 
The name of Antony ; it was divided 
Between her heart and lips : she render'd life, 
Thy name so buried in her. 

Cleopatra's reflections on the death of antony. 

It were for me 
To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods ; 
To tell them, that this world did equal theirs, 
Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught; 
Patience is sottish ; and impatience does 
Become a dog that's mad : Then is it sin, 
To rush into the secret house of death, 
Ere death dare come to us?— How do you, women? 
What, what ? good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian ? 
My noble girls! — Ah, women, women! look, 
Our lamp is spent, it's out: — Good sirs, take heart: — 
We'll bury him: and then, what's brave, what's noble» 
Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, 
And make death proud to take us. Come, away : 
This case of that huge spirit now is cold. 
* Servant. 



208 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ACT V. 

DEATH. 

My desolation does begin to make 
A better life : 'Tis paltry to be Caesar : 
Not being fortune, he's but fortune's knave*, 
A minister of her will : And it is great 
To do that thing that ends all other deeds ; 
Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change ; 
Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung, 
The beggar's nurse and Caesar's. 

CLEOPATRA'S DREAM, AND DESCRIPTION OF ANTONY. 

Cleo. I dream'd, there was an emperor Antony; — 
O, such another sleep, that I might see 
But such another man ! 

Dol. If it might please you, — 

Cleo. His face was as the heavens ; and therein stuck 
A sun, and moon; which kept their course, and lighted 
The little O, the earth. 

Dol. Most sovereign creature, — 

Cleo. His legs bestrid the ocean : his rear'd arm 
Crested the world : his voice was propertied 
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends ; 
But when he meant to quail f and shake the orb, 
He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, 
There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas, 
That grew the more by reaping : His delights 
Were dolphin-like; they show'd his back above 
The element they liv'd in: In his livery 
Walked crowns,andcrownets; realms and islands were 
As plates J dropp'd from his pocket. 

FIRM RESOLUTION. 

How poor an instrument 
May do a noble deed ! he brings me liberty. 
My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing 
Of woman in me : Now from head to foot 
I am marble-constant: now the fleeting § moon 
No planet is of mine. 

* Servant. t Crush. % Silver money. § Inconstant. 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 209 

CLEOPATRA'S SPEECH ON APPLYING THE ASP. 




Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have 
Immortal longings in me: Now no more 
The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip : — 
Yare, yare*, good Iras; quick. — Methinks, I hear 
Antony call ; I see him rouse himself 
To praise my noble act; I hear him mock 
The luck of Caesar, w r hich the gods give men 
To excuse their after- wrath : Husband, I come : 
Now to that name my courage prove my title ! 
I am fire, and air; my other elements 
I give to baser life. — So, have you done? 
Come, then, and take the last warmth of my lips. 
Farewell, kind Charmian; — Iras, long farewell. 
Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? 
If thou and nature can so gently part, 
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, 
Which hurts, and is dcsir'd. Dost thou lie still ? 
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world 
It is not worth leave-taking. 

Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say. 
The gods themselves do w r eep ! 

Cleo. This proves me base : 

* Make haste. 
T 2 



210 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

If she first meet the curled Antony, 
He'll make demand of her; and spend that kiss, 
Which is my heaven to have. Come, mortal wretch, 
[To the Asp, which she applies to her breast. 
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate 
Of life at once untie : poor venomous fool, 
Be angry, and despatch. O, could'st thou speak! 
That I might hear thee call great Caesar, ass 
Unpolicied*! 

Char. O, eastern star! 

Cleo. Peace, peace ! 

Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, 
That sucks the nurse asleep? 

Char. O, break! O, break! 

Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle, — 
O, Antony ! — Nay, I will take thee too : — 

[Applying another Asp to her Arm. 
What should I stay — [Falls on a Bed, and dies. 

Char. In this wild world? — So, fare thee well.— 
jSow boast thee, death! in thy possession lies 
A lass unparalleled. 






<£otto!attU!S* 



ACT I. 

A MOH. 

W hat would you have, you curs, 
That like nor peace, nor war? the one affrights yon. 
The other makes you proud. He that trusts you, 
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares ; 
Where foxes, geese : You are no surer, no, 
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, 
Or hailstones in the sun. Your virtue is, 

* Unpolicied, to leave me to myself. 



CORIOLANUS. 211 

To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him, 
And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness, 
Deserves your hate: and your affections are 
A sick man's appetite, who desires most that 
Which would increase his evil. He that depends 
Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead, 
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trustye? 
With every minute you do change a mind ; 
And call him noble, that was now your hate, 
Him vile, that was your garland. 

AN IMAGINARY DESCRIPTION OF CORIOLANUS WARRING. 

Methinks, I hear hither your husband's drum ; 
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair ; 
As children from a bear, the Voices shunning him: 
Methinks, T see him stamp thus, and call thus, — 
Come on, you cowards, you were got in fear, 
Though you were born in Rome : His bloody brow 
With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes; 
Like to a harvest-man, that's task'd to mow 
Or all, or lose his hire. 

Vir. His bloody brow! O, Jupiter, no blood ! 

Vol. Away, you fool! It more becomes a man, 
Than gilt his trophy. The breasts of Hecuba, 
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier 
Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood 
At Grecian swords' contending. 

DOING OUR DUTY MERITS NOT PRAISE, 

Pray now, no more, my mother, 
Who has a charter* to extol her blood, 
When she does praise me, grieves me. I have done, 
As you have done ; that's what I can ; induc'd 
As you have been ; that's for my country : 
He, that has but effected his good will, 
Hath overta'en mine act. 

AUFIDIUS'S HATRED TO CORIOLANUS. 

Nor sleep, nor sanctuary, 
Being naked, sick: nor fane, nor Capitol, 
* Privilege. 



212 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice, 
Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up 
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst 
My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it 
At home, upon my brother's guard*, even there 
Against the hospitable canon, would I 
Wash my fierce hand in his heart. 



ACT II. 



POPULARITY. 

All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights 
Are spectacled to see him: Your prattling nurse 
Into a rapturef lets her baby cry, 
While she chats him : the kitchen malkinj pins 
Her richest lockram§ 'bout her reechy|| neck, [clows, 
Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, win- 
Are smother'd up, leads filPd, and ridges hors'd 
With variable complexions; all agreeing 
In earnestness to see him: seld^[-shown flamens** 
Do press among the popular throngs, and puff 
To win a vulgar station ff: our veiPd dames 
Commit the war of white and damask, in 
Their nicely-gawdedQ cheeks, to the wanton spoil 
Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother, 
As if that whatsoever god, who leads him, 
Were slily crept into his human powers, 
And gave him graceful posture. 

COMINIUS'S PRAISE OF CORIOLANUS IN THE SENATE. 

I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus 
Should not be utter'd feebly. — It is held, 
That valour is the chiefest virtue, and 
Most dignifies the haver §§: if it be, 

* My brother posted to protect him. t Fit. 

t Maid. § Best linen. || Soiled with sweat and smoke. 
% Seldom. ** Priests. ft Common standing-place. 

\% Adorn'd. §§ Possessor. 



CORIOLANUS. 213 

The man I speak of cannot in the world 

Be singly counterpois'd. At sixteen years, 

When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought 

Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator, 

Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight 9 

When with his Amazonian chin* he drove 

The bristled f lips before him : he bestrid 

An o'er-press'd Roman, and i' the consul's view 

Slew three opposers : Tarquin's self he met, 

And struck him on his knee: in that day's feats, 

When he might act the woman in the scene J, 

He prov'd best man i' the field, and for his meed§ 

Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age 

Man entered thus, he waxed like a sea ; 

And in the brunt of seventeen battles since, 

He lurched || all swords o' the garland. For this last, 

Before and in Corioli, let me say, 

I cannot speak him home: He stopp'd the fliers; 

And, by his rare example, made the coward 

Turn terror into sport : as waves before 

A vessel under sail, so men obey'd, 

And fell below his stem: his sword (death's stamp) 

Where it did mark, it took ; from face to foot 

He was a thing of blood, whose every motion^ 

Was timed** with dying cries: alone he enter'd 

The mortal gate o 7 the city, which he painted 

With shunless destiny, aidless came off, 

And with a sudden reinforcement struck 

Corioli, like a planet: now all's his : 

When by and by the din of war 'gan pierce 

His ready sense : then straight his double spirit 

Requicken'd what in flesh was fatigateff , 

And to the battle came he ; where he did 

Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if 

*Twere a perpetual spoil: and, till we calPd 

Both field and city ours, he never stood 

To ease his breast with panting. 

* Without a beard. f Bearded. 

X Smooth-faced enougb to play a woman's part. 

§ Reward. || Won. f Stroke. ** Followed. 

tt Wearied. 



214 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ACT. III. 

THE MISCHIEF OF ANARCHY. 

My soul aches, 
To know, when two authorities are up, 
Neither supreme, how soon confusion 
May enter 'twixt the gap of both, and take 
The one by the other. 

CHARACTER OF CORIOLANUS. 

His nature is too noble for the world: 
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, 
Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his 

mouth : 
What his breast forges that his tongue must vent ; 
And, being angry, does forget that ever 
He heard the name of death. 

HONOUR AND POLICY. 

I have heard you say, 
Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, 
F the war do grow together: Grant that, and tell me, 
In peace, what each of thern by the other lose, 
That they combine not there. 

CORIOLANUS'S ABHORRENCE OF FLATTERY. 

Well, Imustdo't: 
Away, my disposition, and possess me 
Some harlot's spirit! My throat of war be turned, 
Which quired with my drum, into a pipe 
Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice 
That babies lull asleep! The smiles of knaves 
Tent* in my cheeks ; and school-boys' tears take up 
The glasses of my sight ! A beggar's tongue 
Make motion through my lips ; and my arm'd knees, 
Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his 
That hath receiv'd an alms ! I will not do't : 
Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth, 
And, by my body's action, teach my mind 
A most inherent baseness. 

* Dwell. 



CORIOLANUS. 215 

THE METHOD TO GAIN POPULAR FAVOUR. 




Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand; 
And thus far having stretch'd it (here be with them), 
Thy knee bussing the stones (for in such business 
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant 
More learned than the ears), waving thy head, 
Which often thus, correcting thy stout heart, 
That humble, as the ripest mulberry, 
Now will not hold the handling : Or, say to them, 
Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils. 
Hast not the soft way, which, thou dost confess, 
Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, 
In asking their good loves ; but thou wilt frame 
Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far 
As thou hast power, and person. 

VOLUMNIA'S RESOLUTION ON THE PRIDE OF CORIOLANUS. 

At thy choice then : 
To beg of thee, it is my more dishouour, 
Than thou of them. Come ail to ruin ; let 
Thy mother rather feel thy pride, than fear 
Thy dangerous stoutness; for I mock at death 
With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. 
Thy valiautness was mine, thou suckMst it from me; 
But owe* thy pride thyself. 

Own. 



216 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

CORIOLANUS'S DETESTATION OF THE VULGAR. 

You common cry* of curs! whose breath I hate 
As reekf o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize 
As the dead carcases of unburied men 
That do corrupt my air, I banish you ; 
And here remain with your uncertainty! 
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts! 
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, 
Fan you into despair! Have the power still 
To banish your defenders ; till, at length, 
Your ignorance (which finds not till it feels), 
Making not reservation of yourselves, 
(Still your own foes), deliver you, as most 
Abated | captives, to some nation 
That won you without blows ! 



ACT IV. 



MARTIAL FRIENDSHIP. 

Let me twine 
Mine arms about that body, where against 
My grained ash an hundred times hath broke, 
And scard the moon with splinters ! Here I clip§ 
The anvil of my sword ; and do contest 
As hotly and as nobly with thy love, 
As ever in ambitious strength I did 
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, 
I loved the maid I married ; never man 
Sigh'd truer breath ; but that I see thee he.e, 
Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart, 
Than when I first my wedded mistress saw 
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars ! I tell thee, 
We have a power on foot ; and I had purpose 
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn ||, 
Or lose mine arm for't: Thou hast beat me out^[ 
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since 
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me ; 
We have heen down together in my sleep, 
Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, 
And wak'd half dead with nothing. 
• Pack, t Vapour. } Subdued § Embrace. || Ann. % IJull, 



CORIOLANUS. 



217 



ON COMMON FRIENDSHIPS, 




Cor. Which is his house, 'beseech you? 

Cit. This, here, before you. 

Cor. Thank you, sir ; farewell. 
O, world, thy slippery turns ! Friends now fast sworn, 
Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart, 
Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise. 
Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love 
Unseparable, shall within this hour, 
On a dissension of a doit*, break out 
To bitterest enmity: So, fellest foes, [sleep 

Whose passions and whose plots have broke their 
To take the one the other, by some chance, 
Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends 
And interjoin their issues. 

PRECEPTS AGAINST ILL FORTUNE. 

You were us'd 
To say, extremity was the trier of spirits ; 
That common chances common men could bear ; 
That, when the sea was calm, all boats alike 

* A small coin. 
U 



218 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Show'd mastership in floating: fortune's blows. 
When most struck home, being gentle wounded, 

craves 
A noble cunning : you were us'd to load me 
With precepts that would make invincible 
The heart that conn'd them. 



ACT V. 



CORIOLANUS'S PRAYER FOR HIS SON. 

The god of soldiers, 
With the consent of supreme Jove, inform 
Thy thoughts with nobleness ; that thou may'st prove 
To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars 
Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw*, 
And saving those that eye thee ! 

OBSTINATE RESOLUTION. 

My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould 
Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand 
The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection! 
All bond and privilege of nature, break! 
Let it be virtuous, to be obstinate. — 
What is that curt'sey worth ; or those doves' e} r es, 
Which can make gods forsworn? — I melt, and am not 
Of stronger earth than others. — My mother bows ; 
As if Olympus to a molehill should 
In supplication nod : and my young boy 
Hath an aspect of intercession, which 
Great nature cries, Deny not, — Let the Volsces 
Plough Rome, and harrow Italy; I'll never 
Be such a goslingf to obey instinct; but stand, 
As if a man were author of himself, 
And knew no other kin, 

* Gust, storm. * A young goose. 



CORIOLANUS. 219 

THE SEASON OF SOLICITATION". 

He was not taken well ; he had not din'd: 
The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then 
"We pout upon the morning, are unapt 
To give or to forgive ; but when we have stuff d 
These pipes and these conveyances of our blood 
"With wine and feeding, we have suppler goals 
Than in our priest-like fasts : therefore I'll watch him 
Till he be dieted to my request. 

RELENTING L2NDERNESS. 

Like a dull actor now, 
I have forgot my part, and I am out. 
Even to a foul disgrace. Best of my flesh, 
Forgive my tyranny ; but do not say, 
For that, Forgive our Romans. — O, a kiss 
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! 
Now by the jealous queen* of heaven, that kiss 
I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip 
Hath virgin'd it e'er since. — You gods, I prate, 
And the most noble mother of the world 
Leave unsaluted: Sink, my knee, i' the earth; 
Of thy deep duty more impression show 
Than that of common sons. 

CHASTITY. 

The noble sister of Publicola, 
The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle, 
That's curded by the frost from purest snow, 
And hangs on Dian's temple: Dear Valeria! 

VOLUMXIA'S PATHETIC SPEECH TO HER SON COIUOLANUS. 

Think with thyself, 
How more unfortunate than all living women 
Are we come hither: since that thy sight which 
should 

* Jnno. 



220 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with 

comforts, 
Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and sorrow; 
Making the mother, wife, and child, to see 
The son, the husband, and the father, tearing 
His country's bowels out. And to poor we, 
Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us 
Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort 
That all but we enjoy. 

* * * * * 

We must find 
An evident calamity, though we had 
Our wish, which side should win: for either thou 
Must, as a foreign recreant, be led 
With manacles thorough our streets, or else 
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin; 
And bear the palm, for having bravely shed 
Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, 
I purpose not to wait on fortune, till 
These wars determine*: if I cannot persuade thee 
Rather to show a noble grace to both parts, 
Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner 
March to assault thy country, than to tread, 
(Trust to't, thou shalt not,) on thy mother's womfr, 
That brought thee to this world. 

PEACE AFTER A SIEGE. 

Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide, 
As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark you ; 
The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, 
Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, 
Make the sun dance. 

* Conclude. 



dSfitttttflttt^ 



ACT I. 

THE BASENESS OF FALSEHOOD TO A WIFE. 

W n 




JL/oubting things go ill, often hurts more 
Than to be sure they do : For certainties 
Either are past remedies : or, timely knowing 1 , 
The remedy then born ; discover to me 
What both you spur and stop* 

lack. Had 1 this cheek 

To bathe my lips upon ; this hand, whose touch, 
Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul 
To the oath of loyalty; this object, which 
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, 
Fixing it only here ; should I (damn'd then), 
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs 
That mount the Capitol : join gripes with hands 
Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood, as 
With labour) ; then lie peeping in an eye, 
Base and unlustrous as the smoky light 
That's fed with stinking tallow ; it were fit, 
That all the plagues of hell should at one time 
Encounter such revolt. 

* What you seem anxious to ntter, and jet withhold. 
u 2 



222 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Into. Away ! — I do condemn mine ears that have 
So long attended thee. 

PARTING LOVERS. 

Into. Thou should'st have made him 

As little as a crow, or less, ere left 
To after-eye him. 

Pisa. Madam, so I did. 

Into. I would have broke mine eye-strings ; crack'd 
To look upon him ; till the diminution [them, but 
Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle : 
Nay, followed him, till he had melted from 
The smallness of a gnat to air ; and then 
Have turn'd mine eye, and wept. — But, good Pisanio, 
When shall we hear from him? 

Pisa. Be assur'd, madam, 

With his next vantage *. 

Into. I did not take my leave of him, but had 
Most pretty things to say : ere I could tell him, 
How I would think on him, at certain hours, 
Such thoughts and such ; or I could make him swear 
The shes of Italy should not betray 
Mine interest, and his honour! or have charg'd him, 
At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, 
To encounter me with orisons f, for then 
I am in heaven for him : or ere I could 
Give him that parting kiss, which I had set 
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, 
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north, 
Shakes all our buds from growing. 



ACT II. 
SCENE. A Bedchamber ; in one part of it a Trunk. 

Imogen reading in her Bed; a Lady attending. 

Into. Mine eyes are weak: — 

Fold down the leaf where I have left: To bed: 

* Opportunity. + Meet me wilh reciprocal prayer. 



CYMBELINE. 223 

Take not away the taper, leave it burning ; 
And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock, 
I pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. 

[Exit Lady. 
To your protection I commend me, gods ! 
From fairies, and the tempters of the night 
Guard me, beseech ye ! 

[Sleeps. Iachimo, from the Trunk, 
lack. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd 
Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus ("sense 

Did softly press the rushes* ere he waken'd 
The chastity he wounded. — Cytherea, 
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed ! fresh lily ! 
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! 
But kiss; one kiss! — Rubies unparagon'd, 
How dearly they do't. — 'Tis her breathing that 
Perfumes the chamber thus : The flame o' the taper 
Bows towards her ; and would underpeep her lids, 
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied 
Under these windows : White and azure, lac'd 
With blue of heaven's own tinctf. — But my design I 
To note the chamber :— I will write all down : — 
Such, and such, pictures; — There the window: — Such 
The adornment of her bed ; — The arras J, figures, 
Why, such, and such : — And the contents o' the story, — 
Ah, but some natural notes about her body, 
Above ten thousand meaner moveables 
Would testify, to enrich mine inventory : 
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! 
And be her sense but as a monument, 
Thus in a chapel lying ! — Come off, come off;— 

[Taking off her Bracelet. 
As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard! 
'Tis mine ; and this will witness outwardly, 
As strongly as the conscience does within, 
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast 



* It was anciently the custom to strew chambers with rushes, 
+ i. e. The white skin laced with blue veins. 
$ Tapestry. 



224 CYMBELINE. 

A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops 
I' the bottom of a cowslip : Here's a voucher, 
Stronger than ever law could make: this secret 
Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, andta'en 
The treasure of her honour. No more. — To what end ? 
Why should I write this down, that's rivetted, 
Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late 
The tale of Tereus ; here the leaf's turn'd down, 
Where Philomel gave up ; — I have enough : 
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. 
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night ! — that dawning 
May bare the raven's eye; I lodge in fear; 
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. 

[Goes into the Trunk. The Scene closes. 

GOLD. 

>Tis gold 
Which buys admittance ; oft it doth ; yea, and makes 
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up 
Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and 'tis gold 
Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the thief; 
Nay, sometime, hangs both thief and true man: What 
Can it not do, and undo ? 

A SATIRE ON WOMEN. 

Is there no way for men to be, but women 
Must be half-workers ? We are bastards all ; 
And that most venerable man, which I 
Did call my father, was I know not where 
When I was stamp'd ; some coiner with his tools 
Made me a counterfeit ; Yet my mother seem'd 
The Dian of that time : so doth my wife 
The nonpareil of this. — O vengeance, vengeance ! 
Me of my lawful pleasure she restraint, 
And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with 
A pudency* so rosy, the sweet view on't 
Mightwellhave warm'd old Saturn; thatlthought her 
As chaste as unsunn'd snow : 



* Modestv 



CYMBELINE. 225 

Could I find out 
The woman's part in me ! For there's no motion 
That tends to vice in man, but I affirm 
It is the woman's part: Be it lying, note it, 
The woman's ; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; 
Ambitious, covetings, change of prides, disdain, 
Nice longings, slanders, mutability, 
All faults that may be nam'd, nay, that hell knows, 
Why, hers, in part, or all ; but, rather, all : 
For ev'n to vice 

They are not constant, but are changing still 
One vice, but of a minute old, for one 
Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, 
Detest them, curse them : — Yet 'tis greater skill 
In a true hate, to pray they have their will : 
The very devils cannot plague them better. 



ACT III. 

IMPATIENCE OF A WIFE TO MEET HER HUSBAND. 

O, for a horse with wings ! — Hear'st thou, Pisanio ? 
He is at Milford-Haven : Read, and tell me 
How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs 
May plod it in a week, why may not I 
Glide thither in a day? — Then, true Pisanio, 
(Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord ; who long'st, — 
O, let me bate, — but not like me: — yet long'st, — 
But in a fainter kind ; — O, not like me ; 
For mine's beyond beyond,) say, and speak thick*, 
(Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, 
To the smothering of the sense,) how far it is 
To this same blessed Milford : And, by the way, 
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as 
To inherit such a haven : But, first of all, 
How we may steal from hence ; and, for tbe gap, 

* Crowd one word on another, as fast as possible. 



226 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

That we shall make in time, from our hence-going, 
And our return, to excuse : — but first, how get hence ; 
Why should excuse be born or e'er begot? 
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pry'thee, speak, 
How many score of miles may we well ride 
'Twixt hour and hour ? 

Pisa. One score, 'twixt sun and sun, 

Madam, \s enough for you ; and too much too. 

Imo. Why, one that rode to his execution, man, 
Could never go so slow : I have heard of riding wagers, 
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands 
That run i'the clock's behalf: — But this is foolery : — 
Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; say 
She'll home to her father: and provide me, presently, 
A riding suit ; no costlier than would fit 
A franklin's* housewife. 

Pisa. Madam, you're best consider. 

Imo. I see before me, man, nor here, nor here, 
Nor what ensues ; but have a fog in them, 
That I cannot look through. Away, I pr'ythee : 
Do as I bid thee : There's no more to say ; 
Accessible is none but Milford way. [Exeunt. 

SCENE. Wales. A mountainous Country, with a Cave. 
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. 

Bel. A goodly day not to keep house, with such 
Whose roofs as low as ours ! Stoop, boys: This gate 
Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows you 
To morning's holy office : The gates of monarchs 
Are arch'd so high, that giants may jetf through 
And keep their impious turbands on, without 
Good-morrow to the sun. — Hail, thou fair heaven! 
We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly 
As prouder livers do. 

Gui. Hail, heaven ! 

Arv. Hail, heaven ! 

* A freeholder. t Strut, walk proudly. 



CYMBELINE. 227 

Bel. Now, for our mountain sport : Up to yon hilb 
Your legs are young ; I'll tread these flats. Consider, 
When you above perceive me like a crow, 
That it is place which lessens, and sets off. 
And you may then revolve what tales I have told you, 
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war: 
This service is not service, so being done, 
But being so allow'd: To apprehend thus, 
Draws us a profit from all things we see : 
And often, to our comfort, shall we find 
The sharded* beetle in a safer hold 
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life 
Is nobler, than attending for a check ; 
Richer, than doing nothing for a babe ; 
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk: 
Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine, 
Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to oursf. 

Gui. Out of your proof you speak : we, poor un- 
fledged, [not 
Have never wing'd from view o' the nest; nor know 
What air's from home. Haply, this life is best, 
If quiet life be best ; sweeter to you, 
That have a sharper known ; well corresponding 
With your stiff age : but, unto us, it is 
A cell of ignorance ; travelling abed ; 
A prison for a debtor, that not dares 
To stride a limit J 

Arv. What should we speak of, 

When we are old as you? when we shall hear 
The rain and wind beat dark December, how 
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse 
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing: 
We are beastly ; subtle as the fox, for prey ; 
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat : 
Our valour is, to chase what flies; our cage 
We make a quire, as doth the prison bird, 
And sing our bondage freely. 

* Scaly-winged. t i. e. Compared with oars. 

$ To overpass his bound. 



228 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Bel. How you speak ! 

Did you but know the city's usuries, 
And felt them knowingly : the art o' the court, 
As hard to leave, as keep ; whose top to climb 
Is certain falling, or so slippery, that 
The fear's as bad as falling : the toil of the war, 
A pain that only seems to seek out danger 
I' the name of fame, and honour; which dies i' the 
And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph, [search ; 

As record of fair act ; nay, many times, 
Doth ill deserve by doing well ; what's worse, 
Must court'sey at the censure : — O, boys, this story 
The world may read in me : My body's mark'd 
With Roman swords : and my report was once 
First with the best of note : Cymbeline lov'd me ; 
And when a soldier was the theme, my name 
Was not far off: Then was I as a tree, 
Whose boughs did bend with fruit : but in one night, 
A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, 
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, 
And left me bare to weather. 

Gui. Uncertain favour! 

Bel. My fault being nothing as (I have told you oft,) 
But that two villains, whose false oaths prevailed 
Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline, 
I was confederate with the Romans : so, 
Follow'd my banishment ; and, this twenty years, 
This rock, and these demesnes, have been my world : 
Where I have liv'd at honest freedom ; paid 
More pious debts to heaven, than in all 
The fore-end of my time. — But, up to the mountains; 
This is not hunter's language: — He, that strikes 
The venison first, shall be the lord o' the feast ; 
To him the other two shall minister ; 
And we will fear no poison, which attends 
In place of greater state. 

THE FORCE OF NATURE. 

How hard it is, to hide the sparks of nature! 
These boys know little, they are sous to the king ; 



CYMBELINE. 229 

Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. 

They think, they are mine : and, though train'd up 

thus meanly 
I' the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit 
The roofs of palaces ; and nature prompts them, 
In simple and low things to prince it, much 
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, — 
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom 
The king his father call'd Guiderius, — Jove! 
When on my three-foot stool I sit, and tell 
The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out 
Into my story : say, — Thus mine enemy fell ; 
And thus I set my foot on his neck ; even then 
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, 
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture 
That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, 
(Once Arviragus,) in as like a figure, 
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more 
His own conceiving. 

WOMAN IN MAN'S APPAREL. 

You must forget to be a woman : change 
Command into obedience ; fear, and niceness, 
(The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, 
Woman its pretty self,) to a waggish courage ; 
Beady in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and 
As quarrelous as the weasel: nay, you must 
Forget that rarest treasure of j r our cheek, 
Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart! 
Alack no remedy !) to the greedy touch 
Of common-kissing Titan* ; and forget 
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein 
You made great Juno angry. 

LABOUR. 

Weariness 
Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth 
Finds the down pillow hard. 

* The son. 
X 



230 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

SCENE. Before the Cave of Belarius. 

m 




Enter Imogen, in Boy's Clothes. 
Into. I see, a man's life is a tedious one : 
I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together 
Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, 
But that my resolution helps me. — Milford, 
When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee, 
Thou was't within a ken: O Jove! I think, 
Foundations fly the wretched : such, I mean, 
Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me, 
I could not miss my way : Will poor folks lie, 
That have afflictions on them ; knowing 'tis 
A punishment, or trial? Yes ; no wonder, 
When rich ones scarce tell true : To lapse in fulness 
Is sorer, than to lie for need ; and falsehood 
Is worse in kings, than beggars. — My dear lord ! 
Thou art one o' the false ones : Now I think on thee, 
My hunger's gone; but even before, I was 
At point to sink for food. — But what is this ? 
Here is a path to it: 'Tis some savage hold: 
I were best not call ; I dare not call : yet famine, 
Ere clean it overthrow nature, makes it valiant. 
Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards ; hardness ever 
Of hardiness is mother. 



CYMBELINE. 231 

A wife's innocency. 

False to his bed ! What is it, to be false ? 
To lie in watch there, and to think on him? 
To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep charge na- 
To break it with a fearful dream of him, [ture, 

And cry myself awake? that's false to his bed ? 

SLANDER. 

No, tis slander; 
Whose edge is sharper than the sword ; whose tongue 
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath 
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie 
All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states, 
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave 
This viperous slander enters. 

HARMLESS INNOCENCE. 

Imo. Good masters, harm me not: 

Before I enter'd here, I call'd ; and thought 
To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took : Good 
troth, [found 

I have stolen nought; nor would not, though I had 
Gold strew'd o' the floor. Here's money for my meat : 
I would have left it on the board, so soon 
As I had made my meal; and parted 
With prayers for the provider. 

Gui. Money, youth ? 

Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! 
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those 
Who worship dirty gods. 



ACT IV. 



BRAGGART. 

To who? to thee? What art thou? Have not I 
An arm as big as thine ? a heart as big ? 
Thy words I grant, are bigger; for I wear not 
My dagger in my mouth. 



232 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

IMOGEN AWAKIfJG. 




Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; 
Which is the way ? 

I thank you. — By yon bush? — Pray, how far thither? 
'Ods pitikins* ! — can it be six miles yet? 
I have gone all night : — 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep. 
But, soft! no bedfellow: — O, gods and goddesses! 

[Seeing the Body. 
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; 
This bloody man, the care on't. — I hope, I dream; 
For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper, 
A nd cook to honest creatures : But 'tis not so ; 
Twas but a boltf of nothing, shot at nothing, 
Which the brain makes of fumes : Our very eyes 
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind, Good faith, 
I tremble still with fear : But if there be 
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity 
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it ! 
The dream's here still : even when I wake, it is 
Without me, as within me ; not imagin'd, felt. 
A headless man! The garments of Posthumus! 
I know the shape of his leg : this is his hand ; 

* This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's my pity. 
t An arrow. 



CYMBELINE. 233 

His foot Mercurial ; bis Martial thigh ; 

The brawns of Hercules : but his Jovial face — 

Murder in heaven? — How r — Tis gone. — 

O Posthumus! alas, where's that? 
Where is thy head? whore's that? Ah me! 

FOOL-HARDINESS. 

Beiug scarce made up, 
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension 
Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment 
Is oft the cause of fear. 

IN-BORN ROYALTY. 

O thou goddess, 
Thou divine nature, how thyself thou blazon'st 
In these two princely boys! They are as gentle 
As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, 
Not wagging his sweet head: and yet as rough, 
Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind, 
That by the top dotli take the mountain pine, 
And make him stoop to the vale. Tis wonderful, 
That an invisible instinct should frame them 
To royalty uniearnd; honour untaught; 
Civility not seen from other ; valour, 
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop 
As if it had been sow'd. 

Enter Arviragcs, bearing Imogen, as dead, in his 
Arms. 
Bel. Look, here he comes, 

And brings the dire occasion in his arms, 
Of what we blame him for ! 

Arv. The bird is dead, 

That we have made so much on. I had rather 
Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, 
To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch, 
Than have seen this. 

Gui. O sweetest, fairest lily! 

My brother wears thee not the one half so well, 
As when thou grew'st thvself. 
x2 



234 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Bel. O, melancholy ! 

Who ever yet could sound thy bottom ? find 
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare* 
Might easiliest harbour in ? — Thou blessed thing ! 
Jove knows what man thou might'st have made ; 

but I, 
Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy ! — 
How found you him? 

Arv. Stark f, as you see: 

Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, 
Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek 
Reposing on a cushion. 

Gui. Where? 

Arv. O' the floor; 

His arms thus leagu'd: I thought, he slept; and put 
My clouted brogues;); from off my feet, whose rudeness 
Answer'd my steps too loud. 

Gui. Why, he but sleeps: 

If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed ; 
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, 
And worms will not come to thee. 

Arv. With fairest flowers, 

Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, 
I'll sweeten thy sad grave : Thou shalt not lack 
The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor 
The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor 
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, 
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock § would, 
With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming 
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie 
Without a monument!) bring thee all this; 
Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, 
To winter-ground § thy corse. 

* * * •* * 

Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less : for Cloten 
Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys: 

* A slow-sailing, unwieldy vessel. t Stiff. 

X Shoes plated with iron. § The red-breast. 

§ Probably a corrupt reading, for wither round thy corse. 



CYMBELINE. 235 

And, though he came our enemy, remember, 
He was paid* for that: Though mean and mighty, 
Together, have one dust: yet reverence, [rotting 
(That angel of the world,) doth make distinction 
Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely ; 
And though you took his life, as being our foe, 
Yet bury him as a prince. 

Gui. Pray you, fetch him hither. 

Thersites' body is as good as Ajax, 
When neither are alive. 

FUNERAL DIRGE. 

Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun, 

Nor the furious winter's rages; 

Thou thy worldly task hast done, 

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: 
Golden lads and girls all must, 
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 

Arv. Fear no more the frown o'the great, 
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; 
Care no more to clothe, and eat; 
To thee the reed is as the oak: 
The sceptre, learning, physic, must. 
All follow this, and come to dust. 

Gui. Fear no more the lightning flash, 
Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone > 
Gui. Fear not slander, censuref rash; 
Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan : 
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must 

Consign 1 to thee, and come to dust. 

Gui. No exorciser harm thee! 
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee! 
Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee! 
. Arv. Nothing ill come near thee! 
Both. Quiet consummation have; 
And renowned be thy grave ! 

* Punished. t Judgment. % Seal the same contract. 



236 BEAUTIES OF SH AKSPEARE. 

ACT V. 

A ROUTED ARMY. 

No blame be to you, sir ; for all was lost, 
But that the heavens fought : The king himself 
Of his wings destitute, the army broken, 
And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying 
Through a strait lane ; the enemy full-hearted, 
Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work 
More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down 
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling 
Merely through fear; that the straight pass was 

damm'd* 
With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living 
To die with lenffthen'd shame. 



I, in mine own woe charm'd, 
Could not find death, where I did hear him groan ; 
Nor feel him, where he struck : Being an ugly monster^ 
'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, 
Sweet words ; or hath more ministers than we 
That draw his knives i' the war. 



f^attttet 



ACT I- 

PRODIGIES. 

In the most high and palmyf state ojf Rome, 
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, 
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead 
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets. 

* Blocked up. t Victorious. 



HAMLET. 237 

As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, 
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star*, 
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands, 
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. 

GHOSTS VANISH AT THE CROWING OF A COCK. 

JBer. It was about to speak, when the cock crew* 
Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing 
Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, 
The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn, 
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat 
Awake the god of day; and, at his warning, 
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, 
The extravagant and erring f spirit hies 
To his confine : and of the truth herein 
This present object made probation J. 

THE REVERENCE PAID TO CHRISTMAS-TIME. 

It faded on the crowing of the cock. 
Some say, that ever 'gainst the season comes 
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, 
This bird of dawning singeth all night long: 
And then they say no spirit dares stir abroad ; 
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, 
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, 
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. 

MORNING. 

But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, 
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. 

REAL GRIEF. 

Seems, madam ! nay, it is ; I know not seems. 
'Tis not alone, my inky cloak, good mother, 
Nor customary suits of solemn black, 
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, 
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, 
Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage, 
Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, 

* The moon. f Wandering. J Proof, 



238 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

That can denote me truly : These, indeed, seem, 
For they are actions that a man might play : 
But I have that within, which passeth show ; 
These, but the trappings and the suits of woe. 

IMMODERATE GRIEF DISCOMMENDED. 

'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Ham- 
To give these mourning duties to your father: [let, 
But, you must know, your father lost a fatlier; 
That father lost his; and the survivor bound 
In filial obligation, for some term 
To do obsequious sorrow : But to persevere 
In obstinate condolement, is a course 
Of impious stubbornness ; 'tis unmanly grief: 
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven ; 
A heart unfortified, or mind impatient ; 
An understanding simple and unschool'd: 
For what, we know, must be, and is as common, 
As any the most vulgar thing to sense, 
Why should we, in our peevish opposition, 
Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven, 
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, 
To reason most absurd ; whose common theme 
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, 
From the first corse, till he that died to-day, 
This must be so. 

HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON HIS MOTHER'S MARRIAGE. 

O, that this too too solid flesh would melt 
Thaw, and resolve* itself into a dew ! 
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd 
His canon f 'gainst self-slaughter! O, God! O, God! 
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable 
Seem to me all the uses of this world! 
Fie on't ! O, fie ! 'tis an unweeded garden, 
That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in nature, 
Possess it merely J. That it should come to this ! 
But two months dead ! — nay, not so much, not two : 

* Dissolve. f Law. J Entirely. 




HAMLET. 230 

So excellent a king ; that was, to this, 

Hyperion* to a satyr: so loving to my mother, 

That he might not beteemf the winds of heaven 

Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth ! 

Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, 

As if increase of appetite had grown 

By what it fed on : And yet, within a month, — 

Let me not think on' t; — Frail ty, thy name is worn an!-— 

A little month ; or ere those shoes were old, 

With which she follow 'd my poor father's body, 

Like Niobe, all tears ; —why she, even she, 

O, heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, 

Would have mourn'd longer, — married with my uncle, 

My fathers brother; but no more like my father, 

Than I to Hercules: Within a month; 

Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears 

Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, 

She married ; — O, most wicked speed, to post 

With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! 

It is not, nor it cannot come to, good. 

CAUTIONS TO YOUNG FEMALES. 

For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour, 
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood ; 
A violet in the youth of primy nature, 
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, 
The perfume and suppliance of a minute : 
No more. 

***** 

Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain, 

If with too credent J ear you list§ his songs ; 

Or lose your heart: or your chaste treasure open 

To his unmaster'd|| importunity. 

Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister ; 

And keep you in the rear of your affection, 

Out of the shot and danger of desire. 

The chariest^! maid is prodigal enough, 

If she unmask her beauty to the moon : 

* Apollo. t Suffer. $ Believing. 

$ Listen to. || Licentious. % Most cautious. 



240 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes: 
The canker galls the infants of the spring, 
Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd ; 
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth 
Contagious blastments are most imminent. 

SATIRE ON UNGRACIOUS PASTORS. 

I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, 
As watchman to my heart: But, good, my brother, 
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, 
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven ; 
Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless* libertine, 
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, 
And recks not his own readf. 

ADVICE TO A SON GOING TO TRAVEL. 

Give thy thoughts no tongue, 
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. 
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. 
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel; 
But do not dull thy palm J with entertainment 
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware 
Of entrance to a quarrel : but, being in, 
Bear it that the opposer may beware of thee. 
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: 
Take each man's censure§, but reserve thy judgment. 
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 
But not express'd in fancy ; rich, not gaudy : 
For the apparel oft proclaims the map ; 
And they in France, of the best rank and station, 
Are most select and generous ||, chief If in that, 
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be : 
For loan oft loses both itself and friend ; 
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry**. 
This, above all, — To thine own self be true; 
And it must follow, as the night the day, 
Thou canst not then be false to any man. 

* Careless. t Regards not li is own lessons. 

t Palm of the hand. § Opinion. || Noble. 

% Chiefly. ** Economy. 



HAMLET. 241 

HAMLET, ON THE APPEARANCE OF HIS FATHER'S GHOST. 




Angels find ministers of grace defend us! — 
Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, 
Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell, 
Be thy intents wicked, or charitable, 
Thou com'st in such a questionable* shape, 
That I will speak to thee; I'll call thee, Hamlet, 
King, father, royal Dane : O, answer me : 
Let me not burst in ignorance ! but tell, 
Why thy canonize! bones, hearsed in death, 
Have burst their cerements ! why the sepulchre, 
Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd, 
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws, 
To cast thee up again! What may this mean, 
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel 
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, 
Making night hideous; and we fools of nature, 
So horridly to shake our disposition f, 
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? 

THE MISCHIEFS IT MIGHT TEMPT HIM TO. 

What, if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, 
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff", 



* Conversable. 



t Frame. 



242 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

That beetles* o'er his base into the sea? 
And there assume some other horrible form, 
Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason, 
And draw you into madness? think of it: 
The very place puts toysf of desperation, 
Without more motive, into every brain, 
That looks so many fathoms to the sea, 
And hears it roar beneath. 

SCENE. A more remote Part of the Platform. 
Re-enter Ghost and Hamlet. 

Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? speak, I'll go 

Ghost. Mark me. [no further. 

Ham. I will. 

Ghost. My hour is almost come, 

When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames 
Must render up myself. 

Ham. Alas, poor ghost ! 

Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing 
To what I shall unfold. 

Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear. 

Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. 

Ham. What? 

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit ; 
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night; 
And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, 
Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, 
Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid 
To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood ; 
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres ; 
Thy knotted and combined locks to part, 
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : 
But this eternal blazon % must not be 
To ears of flesh and blood: — List, list, O list! — 
If thou didst ever thy dear father love, 

Ham. O heaven ! 

* Hangs. t Whims. | Display. 



HAMLET. 243 

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder. 

Ham. Murder? 

Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is ; 
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. [swift 

Ham. Haste me to know it ; that I, with wings as 
As meditation, or the thoughts of love, 
May sweep to my revenge. 

Ghost. I find thee apt; 

And duller should'st thou be than the fat weed 
That rots itself in ease on Lethe's wharf, 
TV ould'st thou not stir in this ? Now, Hamlet, hear : 
'Tis given out, that sleeping in mine orchard*, 
A serpent stung me ; so the whole ear of Denmark 
Is by a forged process of my death 
Rankly abus'd : but know, thou noble youth, 
The serpent that did sting thy father's life, 
Now wears his crown. 

Ham. O, my prophetic soul ! my uncle ! 

Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, 
With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts, 
(O, wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power 
So to seduce !) won to his shameful lust 
The will of my most seeming virtuous queen : 
O, Hamlet, what a falling off was there ! 
From me, whose love was of that dignity, 
That it went hand in hand even with the vow 
I made to her in marriage ; and to decline 
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor 
To those of mine ! 

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd, 
Though lewdness court it in the shape of heaven; 
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, 
Will sate f itself in a celestial bed, 
And prey on garbage. 

But, soft ! methinks, I scent the morning air ; 
Brief let me be : — Sleeping within mine orchard, 
My custom always of the afternoon, 
Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, 

* Garden. t Satiate. 



244 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE- 

With juice of cursed hebenon* in a vial, 
And in the porches of mine ears did pour 
The leperous distilment: whose effect 
Holds such an enmity with blood of man, 
That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through 
The natural gates and alleys of the body ; 
And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset 
And curd, like eager droppings into milk, 
The thin and wholesome blood : so it did mine ; 
And a most instant tetterf bark'd about, 
Most lazarj-like, with vile and loathsome crust, 
All my smooth body. 

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand, 
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch , d§: 
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, 
Unhousel'd ||, disappointed If, unanel'd ** ; 
No reckoning made, but sent to my account 
With all my imperfections on my head : 
O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible ! 
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not ; 
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be 
A couch for luxury and damned incest. 
But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act, 
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive 
Against thy mother aught ; leave her to heaven, 
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, 
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once ! 
The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, 
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire : 
Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me. [Exit. 

Ham. O, al I you host of heaven ! O, earth ! What else ? 
And shall I couple hell? — O fie! — Hold, hold, my 
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, [heart ; 
But bear me stiffly up! — Remember thee ? 
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat 
In this distracted globe ff . Remember thee ? 

* Henbane. t Scab, scurf. X Leprous. 

§ Bereft. || Without having received the sacrament. 

5f Unanpointed, unprepared. ** Without extreme unction, 
ft Head. 



HAMLET. 245 

Yea, from the table of my memory 
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, 
All saws* of books, all forms, all pressures past, 
That youth and observation copied there; 
And thy commandment all alone shall live 
Within the book and volume of my brain, 
Unmix'd with baser matter : yes, by heaven. 
O most pernicious woman ! 

villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! 
My tables t, — meet it is, I set it down, 

That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain ; 
At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark : 

[Writing. 
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; 
It is, Adieu, adieu ! remember me. 

THE EXTENT OF HUMAN PERFECTION. 

He was a man, take him for all in all, 

1 shall not look upon his like again. 



ACT II. 



OPHELIA'S DESCRIPTION OF HAMLET'S MAD ADDRESS 
TO HER. 

My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, 
Lord Hamlet, — with his doublet all unbrac'd ; 
No hat upon his head ; his stockings foul'd, 
Ungarter'd, and down-gyved I to his ankle; 
Pale as his shirt ; his knees knocking each other ; 
And with a look so piteous in purport, 
As if he had been loosed out of hell, 
To speak of horrors, — he comes before me. 

Pol Mad for thy love ? 

Oph. My lord, I do not know ; 

But, truly, I do fear it. 

Pol What said he? 

* Sayings, sentences. t Memorandum-book. 

$ Hanging down like fetters. 
Y ^ 



246 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard , 
Then goes he to the length of all his arm ; 
And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, 
He falls to such perusal of my face, 
As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so; 
At last — a little shaking of mine arm, 
And thrice his head thus waving up and down, — 
He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound, 
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk*, 
And end his being: That done, he lets me go: 
And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd, 
He seem'd to find his way without his eyes: 
For out o' doors he went without their helps, 
And, to the last, bended their light on me. 

OLD AGE. 

Beshrew my jealousy ! 
It seems, it is as proper to our age 
To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions, 
As it is common for the younger sort 
To lack discretion. 

HAPPINESS CONSISTS IN OPINION. 

Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing 
either good or bad, but thinking makes it so : to me 
it is a prison. 

REFLECTIONS ON MAN. 

I have of late, (but, wherefore, I know not,) lost 
all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises : and, 
indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that 
this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a steril 
promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, 
look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this ma- 
jestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears 
no other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent con- 
greation of vapours. What a piece of work is a 
man ! How noble in reason ! how infinite in facul- 
ties ! in form, and moving, how express and admi- 
rable 1 in action, how like an angel ! in apprehen- 
* Body. 



HAMLET. 247 

sion, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the 
paragon of animals ! And yet, to me, what is this 
quintessence of dust? Man delights not me, nor 
woman neither; though, by your smiling, you seem 
to say so. 

hamlet's reflections on the player and himself. 

O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! 
Is it not monstrous, that this player here, 
But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, 
Could force his soul to his own conceit, 
That from her working, all his visage wann'd; 
Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, 
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting 
With forms to his conceit ! And all for nothing! 
For Hecuba ! 

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, 
That he should weep for her? What would he do, 
Had he the motive and the cue for passion 
That I have ? He would drown the stage with tears, 
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech ; 
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free, 
Confound the ignorant ; and amaze, indeed, 
The very faculties of eyes and ears. 
Yet I, 

A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, 
Like John a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, 
And can say nothing ; no, not for a king, 
Upon whose property, and most dear life, 
A damn'd defeat* was made. Am I a coward? 
Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? 
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face ? 
Tweaks me by the nose ? gives me the lie i'the throat, 
As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this? 
Ha! 

Why, I should take it : for it cannot be, 
But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall 
To make oppression bitter ; or, ere this, 
I should have fatted all the region kites 

* Destruction. 



248 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

With this slave's offal : Bloody, bawdy villain ! 

Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless *, vil- 

Why, what an ass am I? This is most brave ; [lain ! 

That I, the son of a dear father murder'd, 

Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, 

Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, 

And fall a cursing, like a very drab, 

A scullion. [heard, 

Fie upon't! foh! About my brains! Humph! I have 

That guilty creatures, sitting at a play, 

Have by the very cunning of the scene 

Been struck so to the soul, that presently 

They have proclaim'd their malefactions ; 

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak 

With most miraculous organ. Fll have these players 

Play something like the murder of my father, 

Before mine uncle : I'll observe his looks ; 

I'll tent himf to the quick ; if he do blench J, 

I know my course. The spirit, that I have seen, 

May be a devil : and the devil hath power 

To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and, perhaps, 

Out of my weakness, and my melancholy, 

(As he is very potent with such spirits) 

Abuses me to damn me : I'll have grounds 

More relative than this : The play's the thing, 

Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. 



ACT III. 



HYPOCRISY. 

We are oft to blame in this, — 
'Tis too much prov'd§,— that, with devotion's visage, 
And pious action, we do sugar o'er 
The devil himself. 

King. O, 'tis too true ! how smart 

A lash that speech doth give my conscience ! 
The harlot's cheek, beautified with plastering art, 

* Unnatural. t Search his wounds. 

t Shrink or start. § Too frequent. 



HAMLET. 249 

Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it, 
Than is my deed to my most painted word. 

SOLILOQUY ON LIFE AND DEATH. 

To be, or not to be, that is the question: — 
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune ; 
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
And, by opposing, end them ? — To die, — to sleep, — 
No more : — and, by a sleep, to say we end 
The heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks 
That flesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation 
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die ; — to sleep ; — 
To sleep ! perchance to dream ; — ay, there's the rub ; 
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, 
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil*, 
Must give us pause : There's the respectf, 
That makes calamity of so long life : 
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely^, 
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 
The insolence of office, and the spurns 
That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 
When he himself might his quietus§ make 
With a bare bodkin||? who would fardelslf bear, 
To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; 
But that the dread of something after death,-— 
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn** 
No traveller returns, — puzzles the will; 
And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
Than fly to others that w r e know not of! 
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; 
And thus the native hue of resolution 
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; 
And enterprises of great pith and moment, 
With this regard, their currents turn awry, 
And lose the name of action. 

* Stir, bustle. f Consideration. J Rudeness. 

§ Acquittance. || The ancient term for a small dagger. 

f" Pack, burden. ** Boundary, limits. 



250 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 
FEMALE AFFECTATION. 




I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; 
God hath given you one face, and you make your- 
selves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, 
and nickname God's creatures, and make your wan- 
tonness your ignorance : Go to ; I'll no more oFt; it 
hath made me mad. To a nunnery go. 

A DISORDERED MIND. 

O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrpwn! 
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword: 
The expectancy and rose of the fair state, 
The glass of fashion, and the mould* of form, 
The observ'd of all observers! quite, quite down! 
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, 
That suck'd the honey of his music vows, 
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, 
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; 
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth, 
Blasted with ecstasy f. 

CALUMNY. 

Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou 
shalt not escape calumny. 

* The model by whom all endeavoured to form themselves. 
t Alienation of mind. 



HAMLET. 251 

hamlet's instruction to the players. 

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it 
to you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth 
it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town- 
crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too 
much with your hand, thus ; but use all gently : for 
in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) 
whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and 
beget a temperance, that may give it smoothness. 
O, it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious 
periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very 
rags, to split the ears of the groundlings * ; who, for 
the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplica- 
ble dumb shows, and noise : I would have such a 
fellow whipped for out-doing Termagant; it out- 
herods Herodf: Pray you, avoid it 

Play, I warrant your honour. 

Ham, Be not too tame neither, but let your own 
discretion be your tutor : suit the action to the word, 
the word to the action; with this special observance, 
that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature : for any 
thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, 
whose end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, 
to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature ; to show 
virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and 
the very age and body of the time his form and 
pressure J. Now this, overdone, or come tardy off, 
though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make 
the judicious grieve ; the censure of which one, must, 
in your allowance §, overweigh a whole theatre of 
others. O, there be players, that I have seen play, 
— and heard others praise, and that highly, — not to 
speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of 
christians, nor the gait of christian, pagan, nor man, 
have so strutted, and bellowed, that I have thought 
some of nature's journeymen had made men, and 

* The meaner people then seem to have sat in the pit. 

t Herod's character was always violent. 

i Impression, resemblance. § Approbation. 



252 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAUE. 

not made them well, they imitated humanity so abo- 
minably. 

Play. I hope, we have reformed that indifferently 
with us. 

Ham. O, reform it altogether. And let those 
that play your clowns, speak no more than is set 
down for them : for 1here be of them, that will 
themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren 
spectators to laugh too; though, in the meantime, 
some necessary question* of the play be then to be 
considered: that's villanous; and shows a most piti- 
ful ambition in the fool that uses it. 

ON FLATTERY, AND AN EVIL-MINDED MAN. 

Nay, do not think I flatter : 
For what advancement may I hope from thee, 
That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits, 
To feed and clothe thee ? Why should the poor be 

flatter'd? 
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp ; 
And crook the pregnant f hinges of the knee, 
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? 
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice, 
And could of men distinguish her election, 
She hath sealM thee for herself: for thou hast been 
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing; 
A man that fortune buffets and rewards 
Hast ta en with equal thanks: and bless'd are those, 
Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled, 
That they are not a pipe fur fortune's finger 
To sound what stop she please: Give me that man 
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him 
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, 
As I do thee. 

MIDNIGHT. 

'Tis now the very witching time of night ; 
When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out 
Contagion to this world: Now could I drink hot 
blood, 

* Conversation, discourse. t Quick, ready. 



HAMLET. 253 

And do such business as the bitter day 

Would quake to look on. Soft; now to my mother. — 

O, heart, lose not thy nature ; let not ever 

The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom : 

Let me be cruel, not unnatural: 

I will speak daggers to her, but use none. 

THE KING'S DESPAIRING SOLILOQUY, AND HAMLET'S 
REFLECTIONS ON HIM. 

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven ; 
It hath the primal eldest curse upon t, 
A brother's murder!— Pray can I not. 
Though inclination be as sharp as will? 
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; 
And, like a man to double business bound, 
I stand in pause where I shall first begin, 
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand 
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood ! 
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens, 
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy, 
But to confront the visage of offence ? 
And what's in prayer, but this twofold force,— 
To be forestalled ere we come to fall, 
Or pardon'd, being down ? Then I'll look up ; 
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer 
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder! — 
That cannot be; since I am still possessd 
Of those effects for which I did the murder, 
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. 
May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence ? 
In the corrupted currents of this world, 
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice; 
And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself 
Buys out the law: But 'tis not so above : 
There is no shuffling, there the action lies 
In his true nature ; and we ourselves compell'd, 
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 
To give in evidence. What then? what rests? 
Try what repentance can: What can it not? 
Yet what can it, when one can uot repent? 
z 



254 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

O, wretched state! O, bosom, black as death ! 

0, limid * soul ; that, struggling to be free, 
Art more engag'd! Help, angels, make assay! 
Bow stubborn knees ! and, heart, with strings of steel; 
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe ; 

All may be well ! [Retires, and kneels. 

Enter Hamlet. 

Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying; 
And now I'll do't; and so he goes to heaven : 
And so am I reveng'd? That would be scann'df: 
A villain kills my father; and, for that, 

1, his sole \ son, do this same villain send 
To heaven. 

Why, this is hire and salary§, not revenge. 

He took my father grossly, full of bread ; 

With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May; 

And, how his audit stands, who knows, save heaven? 

But, in our circumstance and course of thought, 

'Tis heavy with him: And am I then reveng'd, 

To take him in the purging of his soul, 

When he is fit and season'd for his passage? 

No. 

Up, sword ; and know thou a more horrid hent || : 

When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage; 

Or in the incestuous pleasures of his bed ; 

At gaming, swearing; or about some act 

That has no relish of salvation in't: 

Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven: 

And that his soul may be as damn'd, and black, 

As hell, whereto it goes. 

HAMLET AND HIS MOTHER. 

Queen. What have I done, that thou darst wag thy 
In noise so rude against me? [tongue 

Ham. Such an act, 

That blurs the grace and blush of modesty; 

* Caught as with bird-lime, t Should be considered. 
| Only. § Reward. || Seize him at a more horrid time. 



HAMLET. 255 

Calls virtue, hypocrite ; takes off the rose 
From the fair forehead of an innocent love, 
And sets a blister there ; makes marriage vows 
As false as dicers' oaths: Q, such a deed 
As from the body of contraction* plucks 
The very soul; and sweet religion makes 
A rhapsody of words: Heaven's face doth glow; 
Yea, this solidity and compound mass, 
With tristful f visage, as against the doom, 
Is thought-sick at the act. 

Queen. Ah, me, what act, 

That roars so loud, and thunders in the index J? 

Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on this ; 
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. 
See, what a grace was seated on this brow : 
Hyperion's § curls; the front of Jove himself; 
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; 
A station || like the herald Mercury, 
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill ; 
A combination, and a form, indeed, 
Where every god did seem to set his seal, 
To give the world assurance of a man : [lows: 

This was your husband. — Look you, now, what fol- 
Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear, 
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? 
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, 
And batten % on this moor? Ha! have you eyes? 
You cannot call it, love : for, at your age, 
The hey-day in the blood is tame, 'tis humble, 
And waits upon the judgment : And what judgment 
Would step from this to this? Sense**, sure you have, 
Else, could you not have motion : But, sure,that sense 
Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err; 
Nor sense to ecstacy ff was ne'er so thrall'd, 
But it reserv'd some quantity of choice, 

* Marriage contract. t Sorrowful. 

% Index prefixed to a book. § Apollo's. 

j| The act of standing. % To grow fat. 

** Sensation. tf Frenzy. 



256 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

To serve in such a difference. What devil was't, 

That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind *? 

Eyes without feeling", feeling without sight, 

Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sansf all, 

Or but a sickly part of one true sense 

Could not so mope J. 

O, shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, 

If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones, 

To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, 

And melt in her own fire: Proclaim no shame, 

When the compulsive ardour gives the charge ; 

Since frost itself as actively doth burn, 

And reason panders will. 

Queen. O, Hamlet, speak no more : 

Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul ; 
And there I see such black and grained spots, 
As will not leave their tinct §. 

Enter Ghost. 

Ham. Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, 
You heavenly guards! — What would your gracious 

Queen. Alas, he's mad! [figure? 

Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide, 
That, laps'd in time and passion, lets go by 
The important acting of your dread command? 
O, say! 

Ghost. Do not forget! This visitation 
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. 
But, look! amazement on thy mother sits: 
O, step between her and her fighting soul ; 
Conceit || in weakest bodies strongest works; 
Speak to her, Hamlet, 

Ham. How is it with you, lady ? 

Queen. Alas, how is't with you? 
That you do bend your eye on vacancy, 
And with the incorporeal air do hold discourse ? 

* Blindmau's-buif. t Without. J Be so stupid, 

§ Colour. || luiagiuatioo. 



HAMLET. 257 

Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep ; 
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm, 
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements*, 
Starts up, and stands on end. O, gentle son, 
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper 
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look? 

Ham. On him! On him!— Look you, how pale he 
glares ! 
His form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones, 
Would make them capable f. — Do not look upon me; 
Lest with this piteous action, you convert 
My stern effects % ; then what I have to do 
Will want true colour ; tears, perchance §, for blood. 

Queen. To whom do you speak this ? 

Ham. Do you see nothing there ? 

Queen. Nothing at all ; yet all, that is, I see. 

Ham. Nor did you nothing hear? 

Queen. No, nothing but ourselves. 

Ham. Why, look you there : look, how it steals away! 
My father, in his habit as he liv'd! 
Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal! 

[Exit Ghost. 

Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain : 
This bodiless creation ecstasy || 
Is very cunning in. 

Ham. Ecstasy ! 

My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, 
And makes as healthful music : It is not madness, 
That I have utter'd : bring me to the test, 
And I the matter will re-word; which madness 
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, 
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, 
That not your trespass, but my madness speaks : 
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place; 
Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, 

* The bair of animals is excrementitious, that is, without life 
or sensation. 

t Intelligent. % Actions. § Perhaps. || Frenzy. 

z2 



258 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven ; 
Repent what's past ; avoid what is to come ; 
And do not spread the compost* on the weeds, 
To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue : 
For in the fatness of these pursy times, 
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg ; 
Yeaf, curb and woo, for leave to do him good. 

Queen. O, Hamlet! thou hast cleft my heart in twain. 

Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it, 
And live the purer with the other half. 
Good night, but go not to my uncle's bed ; 
Assume a virtue, if you have it not. 
That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat 
Of habits devil, is angel yet in this ; 
That to the use of actions fair and good 
He likewise gives a frock, or livery, 
That aptly is put on : Refrain to-night ; 
And that shall lend a kind of easiness 
To the next abstinence : the next more easy: 
For use almost can change the stamp of nature, 
And either curb the devil, or throw him out 
With wondrous potency. Once more, good night ! 
And when you are desirous to be bless'd, 
I'll blessing beg of you. — For this same lord, 

[Pointing to Polonius. 
I do repent : But heaven hath pleas'd it so, — 
To punish me with this, and this with me, 
That I must be their scourge and minister. 
I will bestow him, and will answer well 
The death I gave him. So, again, good-night! 
I must be cruel, only to be kind: 
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. — 
But, one word more, good lady. 

Queen. What shall I do ? 

Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do : 
Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed ; 
Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you, his mouse \ ; 

• Manure. t Ue.nJ. J A. term of endearment. 



HAMLET. 259 

And let him, for a pair of reechy* kisses, 

Or paddling on your neck with his damn'd fingers, 

Make you to ravel all this matter out, 

That I essentially am not in madness, 

But mad in craft. 'Twere good, you let him know: 

For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, 

Would from a paddock f, from a bat, a gib J, 

Such dear concernings hide ? Who would do so? 

No, in despite of sense, and secresy, 

Unpeg the basket on the house's top, 

Let the birds fly ; and, like the famous ape, 

To try conclusions §, in the basket creep, 

And break your own neck down. 

Queen. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath, 
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe 
W r hat shou hast said to me. 

Ham. I must to England: you know that? 

Queen. Alack, 

I had forgot; 'tis so concluded on. [fellows, — 

Ham. There's letters seal'd: and my two school- 
Whom I will trust, as I will adders fang'd ||, 
They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way, 
And marshal me to knavery : Let it work; 
For 'tis the sport, to have the engineer 
Hoist with his own petard : and it shall go hard, 
But I will delve one yard below their mines, 
And blow them at the moon. 



ACT IV. 



SORROWS RARELY SINGLE. 

O, Gertrude, Gertrude, 
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, 
But in battalions ! 

* Steaming with heat. t Toad. J Cat. 

<$ Experiments. || Having their teeth. 

^ Blown up with his own bomb. 



260 BEAUTJES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



THE DIVINITY OF KINGS. 

Let him go, Gertrude ; do not fear our person ; 
T e re's such divinity doth hedge a king, 
That treason can but peep to what it would, 
Acts little of his will. 

hamlet's irresolution. 

How all occasions do inform against me, 
And spur my dull revenge ! What is a man, 
If his chief good, and market* of his time, 
Be but to sleep, and feed? a beast, no more. 
Sure, he, that made with such large discourse!, 
Looking before, and after, gave us not 
That capability and godlike reason 
To fustf in us unus'd. Now, whether it be 
Bestial oblivion, or some craven § scruple 
Of thinking too precisely on the event, — 
A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom, 
And, ever, three parts coward, — I do not know 
Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do ; 
Sith || I have cause, and will, and strength, and means, 
To do ? t. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me : 
Witness, this army of such mass, and charge, 
Led by a delicate and tender prince ; 
Whose spirit with divine ambition pufTd, 
Makes mouths at the invisible event; 
Exposing what is mortal, and unsure, 
To all that fortune, death, and danger, dare, 
Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great, 
Is, not to stir without great argument; 
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw, 
When honour is at stake. How stand I then, 
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, 
Excitements of my reason, and my blood, 

* Profit. t Power of comprehension, 

f Grow mouldy. § Cowardly. || Since. 



HAMLET. 261 

And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see 
The imminent death of twenty thousand men, 
That, for a fantasy, and trick of fame, 
Go to their graves like beds ; light for a plot 
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, 
Which is not tomb enough, and continent, 
To hide the slain? — O, from this time forth, 
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth ! 

DESCRIPTION OF OPHELIA'S DEATH. 

Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt the brook, 
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream ; 
Therewith fantastic garlands did she make 
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples*, 
That liberalf shepherds give a grosser name, 
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them : 
There on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds 
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke ; 
When down her weedy trophies, and herself, 
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide ; 
And mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up : 
Which time, she chanted snatches of old tunes ; 
As one incapable I of her own distress, 
Or like a creature native and indu'd 
Unto that element: but long it could not be, 
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, 
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay 
To muddy death. 

* Orchis morto mas, t Licentious. 

$ Insensible. 



262 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



ACT V. 



THE CLOWN'S RIDDLE. 




£g$£3 



1 Clown. What is he, that builds stronger than 
either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? 

2 Clown. The gallows-maker; for that frame out- 
lives a thousand tenants. 

1 Clown. I like thy wit well, in good faith; the 
gallows does well: But how does it well? it does 
well to those that do ill: now thou dost ill, to say, the 
gallows is built stronger than the church ; argal, the 
gallows may do well to thee: To't again; come — - 
cudgel thy brains no more about it ; for your dull ass 
will not mend his pace with beating : and, when you 
are asked this question next, say, a grave-maker; 
the houses that he makes last till doomsday. 

hamlet's reflections on yorick's scull. 

Grave-digger. A pestilence on him for a mad 
rogue ! he poured a 11 agon of Rhenish on my head 
once. This same scull, sir, was Yorick's scull, the 
king's jester. 

Ham. This ? [Takes the Scull, 

E'en that. 



- 



HAMLET. 263 

Ham. Alas! poorYorick! — I knew him, Horatio ; 
a fellow of infiuite jest; of most excellent fancy: he 
hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and 
now, how abhorred in my imagination it is ! my 
gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips, that I have 
kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes 
now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of 
merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? 
Not one now, to mock your own grinning ? quite 
chap-fallen? Now get you to my ladys chamber, 
and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this fa- 
our* she must come; make her laugh at that. 



OPHELIA'S INTERMENT. 

Lay her i' the earth; 
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh 
May violets spring! — I tell thee, churlish priest, 
A ministring angel shall my sister be, 
When thou liest howling. 

MELANCHOLY. 

This is mere madness: 
And thus awhile the fit will work on him: 
Anon, as patient as the female dove, 
When that her golden couplets are disclos'df, 
His silence will sit drooping. 

PROVIDENCE DIRECTS OUR ACTIONS. 

And that should teach us, 
There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
Rough-hew them how we will. 

A HEALTH. 

Give me the cups ; 
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, 
The trumpet to the cannoneer without, 
The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, 
Now the king drinks to Hamlet* 

* Countenance, complexion. t Hatched. 



Julius (tatmv. 



ACT I. 

CONTEMPT OF CASSIUS FOR CAESAR. 




A was born free as Caesar ; so were you : 

We both have fed as well ; and we can both 

Endure the winter's cold, as well as he. 

For once, upon a raw and gusty * day, 

The troubled Tyber chafing with her shores, 

Caesar said to me, Dar'st thou, Cassius, now, 

Leap in with me into this angry flood, 

And swim to yonder point? Upon the word, 

Accouter'd as I was, I plunged in, 

And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did. 

The torrent roar'd ; and we did buffet it 

With lusty sinews*, throwing it aside 

And stemming it with hearts of controversy. 

But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, 

Caesar cry'd, Help me, Cassius, or I sink. 

* Wind v. 









JULIUS CJESAR. 265 

I, as ./Eneas, our great ancestor, 

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder 

The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tyber 

Did I the tired Caesar: And this man 

Is now become a god; and Cassius is, 

A wretched creature, and must bend his body, 

If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. 

He had a fever when he was in Spain, 

And, when the fit was on him, I did mark 

How he did shake : 'tis true, this god did shake : 

His coward lips did from their colour fly ; 

And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, 

Did lose his lustre : I did hear him groan : 

Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans 

Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, 

Alas ! it cried, Give me some drink, Titinius, 

As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, 

A man of such a feeble temper* should 

So get the start of the majestic world, 

And bear the palm alone. [Shout, Flourish. 

Bra. Another general shout ! 
I do believe, that these applauses are 
For some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar. 

Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, 
Like a Colossus: and we petty men 
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about 
To find ourselves dishonourable graves. 
Men at some time are masters of their fates : 
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 
But in ourselves, that we are underlings. 
Brutus, and Caesar: What should be in that Caesar? 
Why should that name be sounded more than yours? 
Write them together, yours is as fair a name; 
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well ; 
Weigh them, it is as heavy ; conjure them, 
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar. [Shout. 
Now in the name of all the gods at once, 
Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed, 

* Temperament, conslitotiou. 
A A 



266 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd: 
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods ! 
When went there by an age, since the great flood, 
But it was fam'd with more than with one man ? 
When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Rome, 
That her wide walks encompass'd but one man ? 

PATRIOTISM. 

What is it that you would impart to me? 
If it be aught toward the general good, 
Set honour in one eye, and death i' the other, 
And I will look on both indifferently: 
For, let the gods so speed me, as I love 
The name of honour more than I fear death. 






Cesar's dislike of cassius. 

' Would he were fatter: — But I fear him not: 
Yet if my name were liable to fear, 
I do not know the man I should avoid 
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much ; 
He is a great observer, and he looks 
Quite through the deeds of men : he loves no plays, 
As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music: 
Seldom he smiles ; and smiles in such a sort, 
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit 
That could be mov'd to smile at any thing. 
Such men as he be never at heart's ease, 
Whiles they behold a greater than themselves ; 
And therefore are they very dangerous. 
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd, 
Than what I fear, for always I am Caesar. 

SPIRIT OF LIBERTY. 

I know where I will wear this dagger then; 
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius: 
Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong; 
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat: 
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, 
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, 
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; 



JULIUS O^SAR. 2G7 

But life, being weary of these worldly bars, 

Never lacks power to dismiss itself. 

If I know this, know all the world besides, 

That part of tyranny, that I do bear, 

I can shake off at pleasure. 



ACT II. 

AMBITION CLOTHED IN SPECIOUS HUMILITY. 

But 'tis a common proof*, 
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, 
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face : 
But when he once attains the upmost round, 
He then unto the ladder turns his back, 
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees f 
By which he did ascend. 

CONSPIRACY DREADFUL TILL EXECUTED. 

Between the acting of a dreadful thing 
And the first motion, all the interim is 
Like a phantasmal, or a hideous dream: 
The genius, and the mortal instruments, 
Are then in council; and the state of man, 
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then 
The nature of an insurrection. 

ENVY. 

My heart laments, that virtue cannot live 
Out of the teeth of emulation §. 

BRUTUS'S APOSTROPHE TO CONSPIRACY. 

O conspiracy ! 
Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, 
When evils are most free! O, then, by day, 
Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough 
To mask thy monstrous visage ? Seek none, conspi- 
Hide it in smiles, and affability : [racy ; 

For if thou path thy native semblance || on, 

* Experience. t Low steps. $ Visionary. 

§ Envy. || Walk in thy true form. 



268 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Not Erebus* itself were dim enough 
To hide thee from prevention. 

AGAINST CRUELTY. 

Gentle friends, 
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully ; 
Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, 
Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds: 
And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, 
Stir up their servants to an act of rage, 
And after seem to chide them. 

SLEEP. 

Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber: 
Thou hast no figuresf, nor no fantasies, 
Which busy care draws in the brains of men ; 
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. 

FORTIES SPEECH TO BRUTUS. 

You have ungently, Brutus, 
Stole from my bed : And yesternight, at supper, 
You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, 
Musing, and sighing, with your arms across : 
And when I ask'd you what the matter was, 
You star'd upon me with ungentle looks : 
I urg'd you further; then you scratch/d your head, 
And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot : 
Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not; 
But, with an angry wafture of your hand, 
Gave sign for me to leave you: So I did; 
Fearing to strengthen that impatience, 
Which seem'd too much enkindled ; and, withal, 
Hoping it was but an effect of humour, 
Which sometime hath his hour with every man. 
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep; 
And, could it work so much upon your shape, 
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition J, 
I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, 
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. 

* Hell. t Shapes created by imagination. | Temper 



JULIUS CJESAR. , 269 

CALPHURNIA'S ADDRESS TO CESAR ON THE PRODIGIES 
SEEN THE NIGHT BEFORE HIS DEATH. 

Cal. Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies*, 
Yet now they fright me. There is 0De within, 
Besides the things that we have heard and seen, 
Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. 
A lioness hath whelped in the streets; 
And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead: 
Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds, 
In ranks, and squadrons, and right form of war, 
Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol : 
The noise of battle hurtled f in the air, 
Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan; 
And ghosts did shriek, and squeal J about the streets. 
O Caesar! these things are beyond all use, 
And I do fear them. 

Cues, What can be avoided, 

Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty gods? 
Yet Caesar shall go forth : for these predictions 
Are to the world in general, as to Caesar. 

Cal, When beggars die, there are no comets seen; 
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of 
princes. 

AGAINST THE FEAR OF DEATH. 

Cowards die many times before their deaths ; 
The valiant never taste of death but once. 
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, 
It seems to me most strange that men should fear; 
Seeing that death, a necessary end, % 
Will come, when it will come. 

DANGER. 

Danger knows full well 
That Caesar is more dangerous than he. 
We were two lions litter'd in one day, 
And I the elder and more terrible. 

* Never paid a regard to prodigies or omens. 

t Encountered. % Cry with pain. 

A A2 



270 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ACT III. 

ANTONY'S ADDRESS TO THE CORPSE OF C7ESAR. 



mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low? 

Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, 
Shrunk to this little measure?— Fare thee well. 

ANTONY'S SPEECH TO THE CONSPIRATORS. 

I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, 
Who else must be let blood, who else is rank*: 
If I myself, there is no hour so fit 
As Caesar's death's hour; nor no instrument 
Of half that worth, as those your swords, made rich 
With the most noble blood of all this world. 

1 do beseech ye, if you bear me hard, 

Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, 

Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, 

I shall not find myself so apt to die : 

No place will please me so, no mean of death, 

As here by Caesar, and by you cut off, 

The choice and master spirits of this age. 

* Grown too high for the public safety. 



julius cesar. 271 

REVENGE. 

Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, 
AVith Ate" by his side, come hot from hell, 
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice, 
Cry Havoc*, and let slipf the dogs of war. 

BRUTUS'S SPEECH TO THE PEOPLE. 

If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend 
of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar 
was no less than his. If then that friend demand, 
why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer, 
— Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome 
more. Had you rather Caesar were living, and die 
all slaves; than that Caesar were dead, to live all 
free men ? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him ; as 
he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, 
I honour him : but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. 
There is tears, for his love; joy, for his fortune ; ho- 
nour, for his valour; and death for his ambition. 
Who is here so base, that would be a bondman? If 
any, speak ; for him have I offended. Who is here 
so rude, that would not be a Roman? If any, speak ; 
for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that 
will not love his country? If any, speak; for him 
have I offended. 

ANTONV'S FUNERAL ORATION. 

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; 
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 
The evil, that men do, lives after them; 
The good is oft interred with their bones ; 
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus 
Hath told you, Caesar was aaibitious: 
If it were so, it was a grievous fault; 
And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it. 
Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest, 

* The signal for giving no quarter. 

+ To let slip a dog at a deer, &c. was the technical phrase 
of Shakspeare's time. 



272 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

(For Brutus is an honourable man; 

So are they all, all honourable men ;) 

Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. 

He was my friend, faithful and just to me : 

But Brutus says, he was ambitious; 

And Brutus is an honourable man. 

He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 

Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : 

Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? 

When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept : 

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: 

Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; 

And Brutus is an honourable man. 

You all did see, that on the Lupercal, 

I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 

Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ? 

Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; 

And, sure, he is an honourable man. 

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 

But here I am to speak what I do know. 

You all did love him once, not without cause ; 

What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? 

O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, 

And men have lost their reason ! — Bear with me ; 

My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, 

And I must pause till it come back to me. 

***** 

But yesterday, the word of Caesar might 

Have stood against the world : now lies he there, 

And none so poor* to do him reverence. 

masters! if I wer« disposd to stir 
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
Who, you all know are honourable men: 

I will not do them wrong; I rather choose 
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you, 
Than I will wrong such honourable men. 
But here's a parchment, with the seal of Caesar, 

* The meanest man is now too high \p do reverence to 
Caesar. 



JULIUS CJESAR. 273 

I found it in his closet, 'tis his will : 
Ltet but the commons hear this testament, 
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,) 
And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, 
And dip their napkins* in his sacred blood; 
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, 
And, dying, mention it within their wills, 
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, 
Unto their issue. 

4 Cit. We'll hear the will : Read it, Mark Antony. 

Cit. The will, the will ; we will hear Caesar's will. 

Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not 
read it ; 
It is not meet you know how Caesar lov'd you. 
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men ; 
And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar, 
It will inflame you, it will make you mad : 
'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs ; 
For, if you should, O, what would come of it! 

4 Cit. Read the will; we will hear it, Antony; 
You shall read us the will: Caesar's will. 

Ant. Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile? 
I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it. 
I fear, I wrong the honourable men, 
Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar: I do fear it. 

4 Cit. They were traitors : Honourable men ! 

Cit. The will! the testament ! 

2 Cit. They were villains, murderers : The will ! 
Read the will ! 

Ant. You will compel me then to read the will? 
Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, 
And let me show you him that made the will. 
Shall I descend? And will you give me leave? 

Cit. Come down. 

2 Cit. Descend. [He comes down from the Pulpit. 
***** 

Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. 
You all do know this mantle : I remember 

* JIandkercbiefs. 



274 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 

'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent ; 

That day he overcame the Nervii: — 

Look! in this place, ran CassiuV dagger through : 

See, what a rent the envious Casca made : 

Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd ; 

And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, 

Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it ; 

As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd 

If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no ; 

For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel. 

Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar lov'd him ! 

This was the most unkindest cut of all: 

For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, 

Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, 

Quite vanquished him : then burst his mighty heart ; 

And, in his mantle muffling up his face, 

Even at the base of Pompey's statua*, 

Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 

O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! 

Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, 

Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us f. 

O, now you weep ; and, I perceive, you feel 

The dint J of pity: these are gracious drops. 

Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold 

Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here, 

Here is himself, marr'd as you see, with traitors. 

1 Cit. O piteous spectacle ! 

***** 

2 Cit. We will be revenged: revenge; about, — 
seek, — burn, — fire, — kill,— slay! — let not a traitor 
live. 

Ant. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir 
To such a sudden Hood of mutiny. [you up 

They, that have done this deed, arc honourable; 
What private griefs § they have, alas, I know not, 
That made them do it; they are wise and honourable, 

* Statua, for statue, is common among the old writers. 
t Was successful. | Impression. § Grievances. 



JULIUS CjESAR. 275 

And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts ; 

I am no orator, as Brutus is : 

But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, 

That love my friend; and that they know full well 

That gave me public leave to speak of him. 

For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 

Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, 

To stir men's blood : I only speak right on ; 

I tell you that, which you yourselves do know; 

Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb 

mouths, 
And bid them speak for me : But were I Brutus, 
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
In every wound of Caesar, that should move 
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 



ACT IV. 



CEREMONY INSINCERE. 

Ever note, Lucilius, 

When love begins to sicken and decay, 

It useth an enforced ceremony. 

There are no tricks in plain and simple faith : 

But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, 

Make gallant show and promise of their mettle : 

But when they should endure the bloody spur, 

They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades, 

Sink in the trial. 

THE TENT SCENE BETWEEN BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. 

Cas. That you have wrong'd me, doth appear in this: 
You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella, 
For taking bribes here of the Sardians; 
Wherein, my letters, praying on his side, 
Because I knew the man, were slighted off. 

Bru. You wrong'd yourself, to write in such a case. 



276 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet 
That every nice* offence should bear his comment. 

Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm; 
To sell and mart your offices for gold, 
To undeservers. 

Cas. I an itching palm ? 

You know, that you are Brutus that speak this, 
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. 

Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption, 
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. 

Cas. Chastisement! [ber! 

Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remem- 
Did not great Julius bleed for justice 7 sake? 
What villain touched his body, that did stab, 
And not for justice? What, shall one of us, 
That struck the foremost man of all this world, 
But for supporting robbers ; shall we now 
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes? 
And sell the mighty space of our large honours, 
For so much trash, as may be grasped thus ? — 
I had rather be a dog, and bayt the moon, 
Than such a Roman. 

Cas. Brutus, bay not me, 

I'll not endure it : you forget yourself, 
To hedge me in J; 1 am a soldier, I 
Older in practice, abler than yourself 
To make conditions §. 

Bru. Go to ; you're not, Cassius. 

Cas. I am. 

Bru. I say, you are not. 

Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself: 
Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further. 

Bru. Away, slight man ! 

Cas. Is't possible ? 

Bru. Hear me, for I will speak, 

Must J give way and room to your rash choler ? 
Shall I be frighted, when a madman stares? 

* Trifling. t Bait, bark at. % Limit my authority. 

§ Terms, tit to confer the oflices at my disposal. 



JULIUS C^SAR. 277 

Cas. O ye gods ! ye gods ! Must I endure all this ? 

Bru. All this? ay, more: Fret, till your proud 
heart break ; 
Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, 
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge ? 
Must I observe you ? Must L stand and crouch 
Under your testy humour ? By the gods, 
You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth, 
I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, 
When you are waspish. 

Cas. Is it come to this ? 

Bru. You say, you are a better soldier : 
Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true, 
And it shall please me well : For mine own part, 
I shall be glad to learn of noble men. [Brutus ; 

Cas. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, 
I said an elder soldier, not a better : 
Did I say, better ? 

JBru. If you did, I care not. 

Cas, When Caesar hVd, he durst not thus have 
mov'd me. [him. 

Bru. Peace, peace : you durst not so have tempted 

Cas. I durst not ? 

Bru. No. 

Cas. What ? durst not tempt him ? 

Bru. For your life you durst not. 

Cas* Do not presume too much upon my love, 
I may do that I shall be sorry for. 

Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for. 
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats : 
For I am arm'd so strong in honesty, 
That they pass by me, as the idle wind, 
Which I respect not. I did send to you 
For certain sums of gold, which you denied me ; — 
For I can raise no money by vile means : 
By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, 
And drop my blood for drachmas*, than to wring 

* Coin. 
B B 



278 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash, 
By any indirection. I did send 
To you for gold to pay my legions, 
Which you denied me: Was that done like Cassius? 
Should I have answered Caius Cassius so ? 
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 
To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, 
Dash him to pieces ! 

Cas. I denied you not. 

Bru. You did. 

Cas. I did not : — he was but a fool 

That brought my answer back. — Brutus hath riv'd * 

my heart : 
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, 
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 

Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. 

Cas. You love me not; 

Bru. I do not like your faults. 

Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 

Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do ap- 
As huge as high Olympus. [pear 

Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, 
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, 
For Cassius is aweary of the world : 
Hated by one he loves : brav'd by his brother : 
Check'd like a bondman ; all his faults observed, 
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote, 
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep 
My spirit from mine eyes ! — There is my dagger, 
And here my naked breast ; within, a heart 
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold : 
If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; 
I, that denied Ihee gold, will give my heart: 
Strike, as thou didst at Caesar; for, I know, 
When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovd'st him 

better 
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius. 

* Split. 



JULIUS C^SAR. 279 

Bru. Sheath your dagger : 

Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; 
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. 
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb 
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire ; 
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, 
And straight is cold again. 

Cas. Hath Cassius liv'd 

To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 
When grief, and blood ill-temper'd vexeth him? 

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too. 

Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. 

Bru. And my heart too. 

Cas. Q Brutus p — 

Bru. What's the matter? 

Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me, 
When that rash humour, which my mother gave me, 
Makes me forgetful ? 

Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and henceforth, 

When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, 
He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. 
* * # * * 

Bru. O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. 

Cas. Of your philosophy you make no use, 
If you give place to accidental evils. 

Bru. No man bears sorrow better : — Portia is dead. 

Cas. Ha! Portia! 

Bru. She is dead. 

Cas. How 'scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you so? — 
O insupportable and touching loss ! — 
Upon what sickness ? 

Bru. Impatient of my absence ; 

And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony 
Have made themselves so strong ;— for with her death 
That tidings came. — With this she fell distract, 
And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire. 

Cas. And died so ? 

Bru. Even so, 

Cas, O ye immortal gods ! 



280 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAUE. 

Enter Lucius, with Wine and Tapers. 
Bru. Speak no more of her. — Give me a bowl of 
wine : — 
In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. [Drinks. 

Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge : 
Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup ; 
I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. [Drinks. 

OPPORTUNITY TO BE SEIZED ON ALL OCCASIONS OF LIFE. 

There is a tide in the affairs of men, 
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ; 
Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. 
On such a full sea are we now afloat ; 
And we must take the current when it serves, 
Or lose our ventures. 



ACT V. 

THE PARTING OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. 

Bru. No, Cassius, no : think not, thou noble Ro- 
That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome ; [man, 
He bears too great a mind. But this same day 
Must end that work, the ides of March begun ; 
And whether we shall meet again, I know not. 
Therefore our everlasting farewell take : — 
For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius ! 
If we do meet again, why we shall smile ; 
If not, why then this parting was well made. 

Cas. For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus ! 
If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed : 
If not, 'tis true, this parting was well made. 

Bru. Why then, lead on. — O, that a man might 
The end of this day's business, ere it come ! [know 
But it sufliceth, that the day will end, 
And then the end is known. 

MELANCHOLY, THE PARENT OF ERROR. 

O hateful error, melancholy's child ! 



JULIUS CAESAR. 281 

Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men 
The things that are not ! O error, soon conceiv'd, 
Thou never corn'st unto a happy birth, 
Eut kill'st the mother that engendered thee. 

ANTONY'S CHARACTER OF BRUTUS. 

This was the noblest Roman of them all : 
All the conspirators, save onty he, 
Did that they did in envy of great Caesar ; 
He, only, in a general honest thought, 
And common good to all, made one of them. 
His life was gei\tle ; and the elements 
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up, 
And say to all the world, This was a man ! 



3&mg Hm% 



ACT I. 

A FATHER'S ANGER. 

JUet it be so, — Thy truth then be thy dower: 

For, by the sacred radiance of the sun ; 

The mysteries of Hecate, and the night ; 

By all the operations of the orbs, 

From whom we do exist, and cease to be ; 

Here I disclaim all my paternal care, 

Propinquity* and property of blood, 

And as a stranger to my heart and me 

Hold thee, from thisf, forever. The barbarous Scythi- 

Or he that makes his generation $ messes [an, 

To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom 

Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd, 

As thou my sometime daughter. 

* Kindred, t From this time. $ His children. 

BB2 



282 BEAUTIES OF SHAKESPEARE. 

BASTARDY. 

Thou, nature, art my goddess ; to thy law 
My services are bound : Wherefore should I 
Stand in the plague * of custom ; and permit 
The curiosity t of nations to deprive me, 
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines 
Lag of a brother ! Why bastard ? wherefore base ? 
When my dimensions are as well compact, 
My mind as generous, and my shape as true, 
As honest madam's issue ? Why brand they us 
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base? 
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take 
More composition and fierce quality, 
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, 
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops, 
Got 'tween asleep and wake ? 

ASTROLOGY RIDICULED. 

This is the excellent foppery of the world ! that, 
when we are sick in fortune, (often the surfeit of our 
own behaviour) we make guilty of our disasters, the 
sun, the moon, and the stars: as if we were villains 
by necessity : fools, by heavenly compulsion ; knaves, 
thieves, andtreachers J, by spherical predominance ; 
drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced 
obedience of planetary influence ; and all that we 
are evil in, by a divine thrusting on : An admirable 
evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish dis- 
position to the charge of a star ! My father com- 
pounded with my mother under the dragon's tail ; 
and my nativity was under ursa major § ; so that it 
follows, I am rough and lecherous.— Tut, 1 should 
have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the 
firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. 

FILIAL INGRATITUDE. 

Ingratitude ! thou marble-hearted fiend, 
More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child, 
Than the sea-monster ! 

* The injustice. t The nicety of civil institution. 

} Traitors. § Great bear, the constellation so named. 






KING LEAR. 283 

A father's curse on his child. 
Hear, nature, Lear; 
Dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if 
Thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful, 
Into her womb convey sterility ! 
Dry up in her the organs of increase ; 
And from her derogate* body never spring 
A babe to honour her ! If she must teem, 
Create her child of spleen ; that it may live, 
And be a thwart disuatur'd torment to her! 
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth ; 
With cadentf tears fret channels in her cheeks; 
Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits, 
To laughter and contempt ; that she may feel 
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
To have a thankless child ! 



ACT II. 



FLATTERING SYCOPHANTS. 

That such a slave as this should wear a sword, 
Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these, 
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain siou 

Which are toointrinset t'unloose : smooth every pas- 
That in the natures of their lords rebels; 
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods; 
Renege§, affirm, and turn their halcyon || beaks 
With every gale and vary of their masters, 
As knowing nought, like dogs, but following. 

PLAIN BLUNT MEN. 

This is some fellow, 
Who, having been prais'd for bluntuess, doth affect 

* Degraded. t Falling. £ Perplexed. § Disowned. 
|| The bird called the king-fisher, which, when dried and 
hung up by a thread, is supposed to turn his bill to the point 
from whence the wind blows. 



284 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb, 
Quite from his nature : He cannot flatter, he ! — 
An honest mind and plain, — he must speak truth : 
An they will take it, so : if not, he's plain. 
These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness 
Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends, 
Than twenty silly* ducking observants, 
That stretch their duties nicely. 

UEDLAM BEGGARS. 

While I may scape, 
I will preserve myself: and am bethought 
To take the basest and most poorest shape, 
That every penury, in contempt of man, 
Brought near to beast : my face I'll grime with filth; 
Blanket my loins ; elff all my hair in knots ; 
And with presented nakedness outface 
The winds, and persecutions of the sky. 
The country gives me proof and precedent 
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, 
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms 
Pins, wooden pricks $, nails, sprigs of rosemary; 
And with this horrible object, from low farms, 
Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills, 
Sometime with lunatic bans§, sometime with prayers, 
Enforce their charity. 



THE FAULTS OF INFIRMITY PARDONABLE. 

Fiery? the fiery duke? — Tell the hot duke, that — 
No, but not yet:— may be, he is not well: 
Infirmity doth still neglect all office, 
Whereto our health is bound ; we are not ourselves, 
When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind 
To suffer with the body : I'll forbear ; 
And am fallen out with my more headier will, 
To take the indispos'd and sickly fit 
For the sound man. 

• Simple or rustic. 

t Hair thus knotted was supposed to be the work of elves 
and laities iu the night. % Skewers. § Curses. 



I 



KING LEAR. 285 

UNKINDNESS. 

Thy sister's naught: O Regan, she hath tied 
Sharp-toothM unkindness, like a vulture here. 

[Points to his heart 4 

OFFENCES MISTAKEN. 

All's not offence, that indiscretion finds, 
And dotage terms so. 

RISING PASSION. 

I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad; 
I will not trouble thee, my child ; farewell : 
We'll no more meet, no more see one another : — 
But yet thou art my tlesh, my blood, my daughter ; 
Or, rather, a disease that's in my flesh, 
Which I must needs call mine : thou art a boil, 
A plague-sore, an embossed* carbuncle, 
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee : 
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it : 
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, 
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judgiug Jove. 

THE NECESSARIES OF LIFE FEW. 

O, reason not the need: our basest beggars 
Are in the poorest thing superfluous : 
Allow not nature more than nature needs, 
Man's life is cheap as beast's. 

LEAR ON THE INGRATITUDE OF HIS DAUGHTERS. 

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, 
As full of grief as age; wretched in both! 
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts 
Against their father, fool me not so much 
To bear it tamely ; touch me with noble anger ! 
O, let not women's weapons, water-drops, 
Stain my man's cheeks. — No, you unnatural hags, 
I will have such revenges on you both, 

* Swelling:. 



286 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

That all the world shall — I will do such things, — 

What they are, yet I know not ; but they shall be 

The terrors of the earth. You think, I'll weep ; 

No, I'll not weep: — 

I have full cause of weeping ; but this heart 

Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, 

Or ere I'll weep : — O, fool, I shall go mad 1 

WILFUL MEN. 

O, sir, to wilful men, 
The injuries, that they themselves procure, 
Must be their schoolmasters. 



ACT III. 

lear's distress in the storm. 

Kent. Where's the king? 

Gent. Contending with the fretful element: 
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, 
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, [hair; 
That things might change, or cease : tears his white 
Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, 
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of: 
Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn 
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. [couch, 
This night, wherein the cub-drawn* bear would 
The lion and the belly pinched wolf 
Keep their Far dry, unbonneted he runs, 
And bids what will take all. 



well: 



ON MAN. 

Is man no more than this ? Consider him 
Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, 
the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume: — Ha! here's 
three of us are sophisticated? — Thou art the thing 
itself: unaccommodated man is no more but such a 
poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. — Off, olf, you 
tendings. 

* Whose dugs arc drawn dry by its young - . 






KING LEAR. 287 

lear's exclamations in the tempest. 




Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks ! rage ! blow ! 
Y ou cataracts and hurricanoes, spout [cocks • 

Till you have drenched our steeples, drown'd the 
You sulphurous and thought- ex ecu ting* tires 
Vaunt-couriers f to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, 
Singe my white head! And thou, all- shaking thunder, 
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world ! 
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once, 

That make ingrateful man! 

# # * % * 

Rumble thy bellyfull! Spit, fire! spout, rain! 
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters : 
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness, 
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, 
You owe me no subscription! ; why then let fall 
Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave, 
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man: — 
But yet I call you servile ministers, 
That have with two pernicious daughter's join'd 
Your high engender'd battles, 'gainst a head 
So old and white as this. O ! O ! 'tis foul ! 



* Quick as thought. 
| Obedience. 



f Avant couriers, French. 



288 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Kent. Alas, sir, are you here? things that love night, 
Love not such nighte as these; the wrathful skies 
Gallow* the very wanderers of the dark, 
And make them keep their caves : Since I was man, 
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, 
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never 
Remember to have heard : man's nature cannot carry 
The affliction, nor the fear. 

Lear. Let the great gods, 

That keep this dreadful pother f o'er our heads, 
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, 
That hast within thee undivulged crimes, 
Unwhipp'd of justice : Hide thee, thou bloody hand ; 
Thou perjur'd, and thou simulart man of virtue 
That art incestuous: Caitiff, to pieces shake, 
That under covert and convenient seeming § 
Hast practis'd on man's life ! — Close pent-up guilts, 
Rive your concealing continents, and cry 
These dreadful summoners grace ||. — I am a man, 
More sinn'd against, than sinning. 

Kent. Alack, bare-headed ! 

Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; 
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest. 
***** 

Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much, that this contentious 
Invades us to the skin : so 'tis to thee ; [storm 

But where the greater malady is fix'd, 
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear: 
But if thy flight lay towards the raging sea, [free, 
Thou'dst meet the bear i'the mouth. When the mind's 
The body's delicate : the tempest in my mind 
Doth from my senses take all feeling else, 
Save what beats there. — Filial ingratitude ! 
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand, 
For lifting food to't? — But I will punish home: — 
No, 1 will weep no more. — In such a night 
To shut me out! — Pour on ; I will endure: — 

* Scare or frighten. t Blustering noise. \ Counterfeit. 
§ Appearance. || Favour. 



KING LEAR. 289 

In such a night as this ! O Regan, Goneril ! — 
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all, — 
O, that way madness lies ; let me shun that; 
No more of that, — 

Kent, Good my lord, enter here. 

Lear. Pr'ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own ease; 
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder 
On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in : [ty, — 
In, boy ; go first.— [To the Fool.] You hou seless pover- 
Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep, — 

[Fool goes in. 
Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are, 
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, 
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides, 
Y'our loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you 
From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en 
Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; 
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel ; 
That thou may'st shake the superflux to them, 
And show the heavens more just. 

***** 

Enter Edgar, disguised as a Madman. 
Edg. Away ! the foul fiend follows me ! — 
Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. — 
Humph ! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. 

Lear. Hast thou given all to thy two daughters! 
And art thou come to this? 

* * * * * 

Did'st thou give them all ? 

***** 

Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air, 
Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on thy daughters ! 

Kent. He hath no daughters, sir. [nature 

Lear. Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu'd 
To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters. — 
Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers 
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh * 
Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot 
Those pelican daughters, 
c c 



290 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ACT IV. 

THE JUSTICE OF PROVIDENCE. 

That I am wretched, 
Makes thee the happier: — Heavens, deal so still! 
Let the superfluous, and lust-dieted man, 
That slaves your ordinance*, that will not see 
Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly ; 
So distribution should undo excess, 
And each man have enough. 

PATIENCE AND SORROW. 

Patience and sorrow strove 
Who should express her goodliest. You have seen 
Sunshine and rain at once : her smiles and tears 
Were like a better day: Those happy smiles, 
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know 
What guests were in her eyes ; which parted thence 
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. — In brief, sorrow 
Would be a rarity most belov'd, if all 
Could so become it. 

LEAR'S DISTRACTION DESCRIBED. 

Alack, 'tis he ; why, he was met even now 
As mad as the vex'd sea: singing aloud ; 
Crown'd with rank fumiterf, and furrow weeds, 
With harlocks f, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, 
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow 
In our sustaining corn. 

GLOSTER'S FAREWELL TO THE WORLD. 

O you mighty gods! 
This world I do renounce; and, in your sights, 
Shake paliently my great affliction off: 
If I could bear it longer, and not fall 
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, 
My snuff, and loathed part of nature, should 
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him ! 

* i. e. To make it snbjcct to us, instead of acting in obedience 
to it. t Fumitory. J Charlocks. 



KING LEAR. 291 

DESCRIPTION OF DOVER CLIFF. 




Come on, sir; here's the place: — stand still. — How 
And dizzy His, to cast one's eyes so low! [fearful 
The crows, and choughs*, that wing the midway air, 
Show scarce so gross as beetles: Halfway down 
Hangs one that gathers samphire f ; dreadful trade ! 
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head : 
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, 
Appear like mice; and yon' tall anchoring bark, 
Diminish'd to her cock;}: ; her cock, a buoy 
Almost too small for sight: The murmuring surge, 
That on the unnumberd idle pebbles chafes, 
Cannot be heard so high : — I'll look no more; 
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight 
Topple § down headlong. 

LEAR ON RIS FLATTERER?. 

They flatter'd me like a dog ; and told me, I had 
white hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were 
there. To say ay, and no, to every thing I said! — 
Ay and no too was no good divinity. When the rain 
came to wet me once, and the wind to make me 

* Daws. t A vegetable gathered for pickling. 

X Her cock-boat. § Tumble. 



292 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

chatter ; when the thunder would not peace at my 
bidding; there I found them, there I smelt them 
out. Go to, they are not men o' their words : they 
told me I was every thing : 'tis a lie ; I am not ague- 
proof. 

ON THE ABUSE OF POWER. 

Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand : 
Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back ; 
Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind [cozener. 
For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the 
Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear ; 
Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all. Plate sin with gold, 
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks : 
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it. 
None does offend, none, I say, none ; I'll able 'em : 
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power 
To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes ; 
And, like a scurvy politician, seem 
To see the things thou dost not. 

CORDELIA ON THE INGRATITUDE OF HER SISTERS. 

O my dear father ! Restoration, hang 
Thy medicine on my lips ; and let this kiss 
Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters 
Have in thy reverence made ! 

***** 

Had you not been their father, these white flakes 

Had challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face 

To be expos'd against the warring winds ? 

To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder ? 

In the most terrible and nimble stroke 

Of quick, cross lightning? 

***** 
And wast thou fain, poor father, 
To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn, 
In short and musty straw ? Alack, alack ! 
'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits at once 
Had not concluded all. 



KING LEAR. 293 

SCENE BETWEEN LEAR AND CORDELIA. 

Cor. How does my royal lord! How fares your 
majesty? 

Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave: 
Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound 
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears 
Do scald like molten lead. 

Cor. Sir, do you know me, 

Lear. You are a spirit, I know : When did you die ? 

Cor. Still, still, far wide ! 

Phys. He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile. 

Lear. Where have I been ? — Where am I ? — Fair 
da}- light ? — 
I am mightily abus'd. —I should even die with pity, 
To see another thus. — I know not what to say. — 
I will not swear, these are my hands : let's see ; 
I feel this pin prick. ' Would I were assur'd 
Of my condition. 

Cor. O, look upon me, sir, 

And hold your hands in benediction o'er me : — 
No, sir, you must not kneel. 

Lear. Pray, do not mock me : 

I am a very foolish fond old man, 
Fourscore and upward ; and, to deal plainly, 
I fear, I am not in my perfect mind. 
Methinks, I should know you, and know this man : 
Yet I am doubtful : for I am mainly ignorant 
What place this is ; and all the skill I have 
Remembers not these garments ; nor I know not 
Where I did lodge last night : Do not laugh at me ; 
For, as I am a man, I think this lady 
To be my child Cordelia. 

Cor. And so I am, I am. [not : 

Lear. Be your tears wet ? Yes, 'faith. I pray, weep 
If you have poison for me, I will drink it. 
I know, you do not love me ; for your sisters 
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong : 
You have some cause, they have not. 

Cor. INo cause, no cause, 

c c 2 



294 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Lear. Am I in France ? 

Kent. In your own kingdom, sir. 

Lear. Do not abuse me. 

Phys. Be comforted, good madam : the great rage, 
You see, is cur'd in him : and yet it is danger 
To make him even* o'er the time he has lost. 
Desire him to go in: trouble him no more, 
Till further settling. 

Cor. Will't please your highness walk? 

Lear. You must bear with me : 

Pray now, forget and forgive : I am old, and foolish. 



ACT V. 



LEAR TO CORDELIA WHEN TAKEN PRISONERS. 

No, no, no, no ! Come, let's away to prison : 
We two alone will sing like birds F the cage : 
When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down, 
And ask of thee forgiveness : So we'll live, 
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh 
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues 
Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too,- 
Who loses, and who wins ; who's in, who's out ; — 
And take upon us the mystery of things, 
As if we were God's spies : And we'll wear out, 
In a wall'd prison, pacts and sects of great ones, 
That ebb and flow by the moon. 

Edm. Take them away. 

Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, 
The gods themselves throw incense. 

edgar's account of his discovering himself to his 

FATHER. 

Listf a brief tale; — 
And, when 'tis told, Ojthat my heart would burst ! — 
The bloody proclamation to escape, 
That foilovv'd me so near, (O our lives' sweetness ! 

* To reconcile it to bis apprehension. t Hear. 



II 



KING LEAK. 295 

That with the pain of death we'd hourly die, 
Rather than die at once !) taught me to shift 
Into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance 
That very dogs disdain'd : aud in this habit 
Met I my father with his bleeding rings. 
Their precious stones new4ost: became his guide y 
Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair ; 
Never (O fault ') revealM myself unto him, 
Until some half hour past, when I was arm'd ; 
Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, 
I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last 
Told him my pilgrimage : But his flaw'd heart, 
(Alack, too weak the conflict to support!) 
'Twixt two extremes of passion, J03 7 and grief, 
Burst smilingly. 

Edm. This speech of yours hath mov'd me y 

And shall, perchance, do good ; but speak you on; 
You look as you had something more to say. 

Alb. If there be more, more woful, hold it in; 
For I am almost ready to dissolve, 
Hearing of this. 

Edg. This would have seeni'd a period 

To such as love not sorrow ; but another, 
To amplify too much, would make much more, 
And top extremity. 

Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man, 
Who having seen me in my worst estate, 
Shunn'd my abhorr'd society ; but then, finding 
Who 'twas that so endur'd, with his strong arms 
He fasten'd on my neck, and bellow'd out 
As he'd burst heaven ; threw him on my father ; 
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him, 
That ever ear received : which in recounting 
His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life 
Began to crack: Twice then the trumpet sounded. 
And there I left him tranc'd. 

THE JUSTICE OF THE GODS. 

The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 
Make instruments to scourge us. 



29(5 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



LEAR ON THE DEATH OF CORDELIA. 




Howl, howl, howl, howl! — O, you are men of stones ; 
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so [ever ! — 
That heaven's vault should crack : O, she is gone for 
I know when one is dead, and when one lives ; 
She's dead as earth : — Lend me a looking-glass: 
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, 
Why, then she lives. 

* * # m * 

This feather stirs; she lives ! if it be so. 
It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows 
That ever I have felt. 

Kent. O my good master ! [Kneeling. 

Lear. Pr'ythee, away, 

* # * * * 

A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all ! 

I might have sav'd her; now she's gone for ever ! — 

Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha ! 

What is't thou say'st? — Her voice was ever soft, 

Gentle, and low. 



MACBETH. 295 



LEAR DYING. 



And my poor fool* is hang'd! No, uo, no, life : 
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, 
And thou no breath at all? O, thou wilt come no more, 
Never, never, never, never, never! 



ffiatbcft). 



ACT L 

WITCHES DESCRIBED. 

What are these, 
So wither'd, and so wild in their attire ; 
That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, 
And yet are on't? Live you ? or are you aught 
That man may question? You seem to understand me, 
By each at once her choppy finger laying 
Upon her skinny lips : — You should be women, 
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret 
That you are so. 

MACBETH'S TEMPER. 

Yet do I fear thy nature ; 
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness, 
To catch the nearest way : Thou would'st be great; 
Art not without ambition ; but without [highly, 

The illness should attend it. What thou would'st 
That would'st thou holily ; would'st not play false, 
And yet would'st wrongly win. 

LADY MACBETH'S SOLILOQUY ON THE NEWS OF 
DUNCAN'S APPROACH. 

The raven himself is hoarse, 
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan 

* Poor fool, iii the time of Shakspeare, was an expression of 
endearment. 



298 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAKE. 

Under my battlements. Come, come, you spirits 
That tend on mortal * thoughts, unsex me here ; 
And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full 
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood, 
Stop up the access and passage to remorsef; 
That no compunctuous visitings of nature 
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between 
The effect, and it! Come to my woman's breasts, 
And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring ministers, 
Wherever in your sightless substances 
You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, 
And pall J thee in the dunnest smoke of hell! 
That my keen knife § see not the wound it makes ; 
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, 
To cry, Hold, Hold/ 

macbeth's irresolution. 
If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well 
It were done quickly: If the assassination 
Could trammel upon the consequence, and catch, 
With his surcease, success; that but this blow 
Might be the be-all and the end-all here, 
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — 
We'd jump the life to come. — But, in these cases, 
We still have judgment here; that we but teach 
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return 
To plague the inventor: This even-handed justice 
Commends the ingredients of our poison' d chalice 
To our own lips. He's here in double trust: 
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, 
Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, 
Who should against his murderer shut the door, 
Not bear the knife myself. Besides,, this Duncan 
Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
So clear in his great office, that his \irtues 
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongucd, against 
The deep damnation of his taking off: 
And pity, like a naked new-born babe, 

* Murderous. t Pit}'. f Wrap as in a mantle. 

§ Knife anciently meant a sword or dagger. 



MACBETH. 299 

Striding the blast, or heavVs cherubin, hors'd 

Upon the sightless couriers * of the air, 

Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, 

That tears shall drown the wind. — I have no spur 

To prick the sides of my intent, but only 

Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself, 

And falls on the other. 

TRUE FORTITUDE. 

I dare do all that may become a man; 
Who dares do more, is none. 



ACT II. 

THE MURDERING SCENE. 

Is this a dagger, which I see before me, 

The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch 

thee : 

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 

To feeling, as to sight ? or art thou but 

A dagger of the mind ; a false creation, 

Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? 

I see thee yet, in form as palpable 

As this which now I draw. 

Thou marsh al'st me the way that I was going; 

And such an instrument I was to use. 

Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, 

Or else worth all the rest : I see thee still ; 

And on thy blade, and dudgeon f, gouts J of blood, 

Which was not so before. — There's no such thing: 

It is the bloody business, which informs 

Thus to mine eyes. — Now o'er the one half world 

Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse 

The curtain'd sleep ; now witchcraft celebrates 

Pale Hecate's offerings ; and wither'd murder, 

Alaruin'd by his sentinel, the wolf, 

* Winds; sightless is invisible. t Haft. $ Drops. 



300 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, 
With Tarquin's ravishing; strides, towards his design 
Moves like a ghost. — Thou sure and firm set earth, 
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear 
Thy very stones prate of my where-about, 
And take the present horror from the time, 
Which now suits with it. — Whiles I threat, he lives; 
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. 

[A hell rings. 
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. 
Hear it not, Duncan ; for it is a knell 
That summons thee to heaven, or to hell. [Exit. 

Enter Lady Macbeth. 




Lady M. That which hath made them drunk, halh 

made me bold : 
What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire: — 

Hark ! — Peace ! 
It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, 
Which gives the stern'st good night. He is about it: 
The doors are open ; and the surfeited grooms 
Do mock their charge with snores : I have drugg'd 

their possets, 
That death and nature do contend about them, 
Whether they live, or die. 



MACBETH. 301 

Macb. [Within.] Who's there?— what, ho! 

Lady M. Alack ! I am afraid they have awak'd, 
And 'tis not done: — the attempt, and not the deed, 
Confounds us: — Hark! — I laid their daggers ready. 
He could not miss them. — Had he not resembled 
My father as he slept. I had done't. — My husband? 

Enter Macbeth. 
Macb. I have done the deed : — Didst thou not hear 
a noise ? [cry . 

Lady M. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets 
Did not you speak ? 

Macb. When? 

Lady M. Now. ■ 

Macb. As I descended ? 

Lady M. Ay. 
Macb. Hark!— 
Who lies i' the second chamber ? 

Lady M. Donalbain. 

Macb. This is a sorry sight. 

[Looking on Ms Hands. 
Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. 
Macb. There's one did laugh in his sleep, and one 
cried, murder ! [them : 

That they did w r ake each other ; I stood and heard 
But they did say their prayers, and address'd them 
Again to sleep. 

Lady M. There are two lodg'd together. 
Macb. One cried, God bless us! and, Amen, the 
other j 
As* they had seen me, with these hangman's hands. 
Listening their fear, I could not say, amen, 
When they did say, God bless us. 
Lady M. Consider it not so deeply. 

Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce, amen? 
I had most need of blessing, and amen 
Stuck in my throat. 

Lady M. These deeds must not be thought 

After these ways ; so, it will make us mad. 
* As if. 
D D 



302 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Macb. Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep no 
Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep ; [more ! 
Sleep, that hnits up the ravell 7 d sleave * of care, 
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, 
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, 
Chief nourisher in life's feast ; — 

Lady M. What do you mean? 

Macb. Still it cried, Sleep no more! to all the 
house : 
Glamis hath murder' d sleep ; and therefore Cawdor 
Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more ! 

Lady M. Who was it that thus cried? Why, wor- 
thy thane, 
You do unbend your noble strength, to think 
So brainsickly of things : — Go, get some water, 
And wash this filthy witness from your hand. — 
Why did you bring these daggers from the place? 
They must lie there : Go, carry them ; and smear • 
The sleepy grooms with blood. 

Macb. I'll go no more : 

I am afraid to think what I have done ; 
Look on't again, I dare not. 

Lady M. Infirm of purpose? 

Give me the daggers : The sleeping and the dead, 
Are but as pictures : 'tis the eye of childhood, 
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, 
V 111 gild the faces of the grooms withal, 
y For it must seem their guilt. 

[Exit. Knocking within. 

Macb. Whence is that knocking? 

How is't with me, when every noise appals me ? 
What hands are here? Ha ! they pluck out mine eyes ! 
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather 
The multitudinous seas incarnardine f, 
Making the green one red. 

Re-enter Lady Macbeth. 

Lady M. My hands are of your colour ; but I shame 

* Sleave is un wrought silk. 

t To incarnardine is to slain of a flesh colour. 



MACBETH. 303 

To wear a heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a knocking 
At the south entry :— retire we to our chamber : 
A little water clears us of this deed : 
How easy is it then ? Your constancy [knocking : 
Hath left you unattended. [Knocking.] Hark! more 
Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, 
And show us to be watchers: — Be not lost 
So poorly in your thoughts. 
Macb. To know my deed, — 'twere best not know 

myself. [Knock. 

Wake Duncan with thy knocking ! Ay, would thou 

could' st ! [Exeunt. 



ACT III. 



MACBETH'S GUILTY CONSCIENCE, AND FEARS OF BANQUO. 

Lady M. How now, my lord ; why do you keep 

alone, 
Of sorriest* fancies your companions making? 
Using those thoughts, which should indeed have died 
With them they think on ? Things without remedy 
Should be without regard : what's done, is done. 

Macb. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it; 
She'll close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice 
Remains in danger of her former tooth. 
But let 

The frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, 
Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep 
In the affliction of these terrible dreams, 
That shake us nightly : Better be with the dead, 
Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace, 
Than on the torture of the mind to lie 
In restless ecstasyf. Duncan is in his grave; 
After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well ; 
Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor poison, 

* Most melancholy. t Agony. 



304 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, 
Can touch him further. 

***** 

O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife ! 

Thou know'st, that Banquo, and his Fleance lives. 

Lady M. But in them nature's copy's not eterne*. 

Macb. There's comfort yet ; they are assailable ; 
Then be thou jocound : Ere the bat hath flown 
His cloistered flight ; Ere to black Hecate's summons, 
The shard-borne beetle t, with his drowsy hums, 
Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done 
A deed of dreadful note. 

Lady M. What's to be done ! 

Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest 
chuck I, 
Till thou applaud the deed. Come, sealing § night, 
Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day ; 
And, with thy bloody and invisible hand, 
Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond 
Which keeps me pale ! — Light thickens ; and the crow 
Makes wing to the rooky wood : 
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse ; 
Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse. 

THE BANQUET SCENE. 

Lady M. My royal lord, 

You do not give the cheer : the feast is sold, 
That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making, 
'Tis given with — 2lcome : To feed, were best at 

home ; 
From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony ; 
Meeting were bare without it. 

Macb. Sweet remembrancer! — 

Now, good digestion wait on appetite, 
And health on both! 

* i. e. The copy, the lease, by which they hold their lives 
from nature, has its time of termination. 

t The beetle borne in the air by its shards or scaly wings. 
} A term of endearment. § Blindiug. 



MACBETH. 305 

Len. May it please your highness sit ? 

[The Ghost o/Banquo rises y and sits in 
Macbeth's place. 

Macb. Here had we now our country's honour 
roof'd, 
Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present ; 
Whom I may rather challenge for unkindness, 
Than pity for mischance ! 

Bosse. His absence, sir, 

Lays blame uponhis promise. Please ityour highness 
To s^ace us with your royal company? 

Macb, The table's full. 

Len. Here's a place reserved, sir. 

Macb. Where? 

Len. Here, my lord. What is't that 

moves your highness ? 

Macb. Which of you have done this ? 

Lords. What, my good lord ! 

Macb. Thou can'st not say, I did it : never shake 
Thy gor} T locks at me. 

Rosse. Gentlemen, rise ; his highness is not well. 

Lady M. Sit, worthy friends : — my lord is often thus, 
And hath been from his youth : pray you, keep seat ; 
The fit is momentary ; upon a thought* 
He will again be well : If much you note him, 
You shall offend him, and extend his passion f; 
Feed, and regard him not. — Are you a man? 

Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that 
Which might appal the devil* 

Lady M. O proper stuff: 

This the very painting of your fear : 
This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said, 
Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws f, and starts, 
(Impostors to true fear) would well become 
A woman's story, at a winters fire, 
Authorizd by her grandam. Shame itself! 
Why do you make such faces? When all's done, 
You look but on a stool. 

* As quick as thought. t Prolong his suffering. 

$ Sudden gusts. 

I) D J 



30(5 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE 

Macb. Pr'ythee, see there ! behold ! look ! lo ! how 
say you ? 
Why, what care I ? If thou canst nod, speak too. — 
If charnel-houses, and our graves, must send 
Those that we bury, back, our monuments 
Shall be the maws of kites. [Ghost disappears. 

Lady M. What ! quite unmanned in folly ? 

Macb. If I stand here, I saw him. 

Lady M. Fie, for shame ! 

Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden 
Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal; [time, 
Ay, and since too, murders have been performed 
Too terrible for the ear : the times have been, 
That, when the brains were out, the man would die, 
And there an end : but now, they rise again, 
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, 
And push us from our stools : This is more strange 
Than such a murder is. 

Lady M. My worthy lord, 

Your noble friends do lack you. 

Macb. I do forget : — 

Do not muse * at me, my most worthy friends ; 
I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing 
To those that know me. Come, love and health to all ; 

Then I'll sit down: -Give me some wine, fill 

full : 

I drink to the general joy of the whole table, 

[Ghost rises. 
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss; 
Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst, 
And all to allf. 

Lords. Our duties, and the pledge. 

Macb. Avaunt! and quit ray sight! Let the earth 
hide thee ! 
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; 
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes 
Which thou dost glare with I 

Lady M. Think of this, good ] 



Wonder. t i. e. All 2:001! wishes to all. 



peers, 



MACBETH. 307 

But as a. thing of custom ; 'tis no other; 
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. 

Macb. What man dare, I dare : 
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, 
The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger, 
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves 
Shall never tremble : Or, be alive again, 
And dare me to the desert with thy sword ; 
If trembling I inhibit * thee, protest me 
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow ! 

[Ghost disappears. 
Unreal mockery, hence ! — Why, so ; — being gone, 
I am a man again. — Pray you, sit still. 

Lady M. You have displaced the mirth, broke the 
With most admir'd disorder. [good meeting, 

Macb. Can such things be, 

And overcome f us like a summer's cloud, 
Without our special wonder ? You make me strange 
Even to the disposition that I owe $, 
When now I think you can behold such sights, 
And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, 
When mine are blanch'd with fear. 

Rosse. What sights, my lord ? 

Lady M. I pray you, speak not ; he grows worse 
and worse ; 
Question enrages him : at once, good night : — 
Stand not upon the order of your going, 
But go at once. 

Len. Good night, and better health 

Attend his majesty ! 

Lady M. A kind good night to all ! 

[Exeunt Lords and Attendants. 

Macb. It will have blood; they say, blood will 
have blood : 
Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak ; 
Augurs, and understood relations, have [forth 

By magot-pies §, and choughs, and rooks, brought 
The secret'st man of blood. 

* Forbid. + Pass over. \ Possess. § Magpies. 



308 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKESPEARE. 



ACT IV. 

THE POWER OF WITCHES. 




I conjure you, by that which you profess, 
(Howe'er you come to know it) answer me : 
Though you untie the winds, and let them fight 
Against the churches; though the yesty* waves 
Confound and swallow navigation up ; [down ; 

Though bladed corn be lodg'df, and trees blown 
Though castles topple $ on their warders' heads; 
Though palaces, and pyramids, do slope 
Their heads to their foundations ; though the treasure 
Of nature's germins§ tumble all together, 
Even till destruction sicken, answer me 
To what I ask you. 

MALCOLM'S CHARACTER OF HIMSELF. 

Mai. ButI have none: The king-becoming graces, 
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, 
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, 
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, 
I have no relish of them : but abound 



Frothy. 
Tumble. 



t Laid flat by the wind or rain. 

§ Seeds which have begun to sprout 



MACBETH. 309 

In the division of each several crime, 

Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should 

Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, 

Uproar the universal peace, confound 

All unity on earth. 

Macd. O Scotland ! Scotland ! 

Mai. If such a one be fit to govern, speak : 
I am as I have spoken. 

Macd. Fit to govern ! 

No, not to live. — O nation miserable, 
With an untitled tyrant, bloody-scepter'd, 
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again ? 
Since that the truest issue of thy throne 
By his own interdiction stands accurs'd, 
And does blaspheme his breed ? — Thy royal father 
Was a most sainted king; the queen, that bore thee, 
Oftner upon her knees than on her feet, 
Died every day she lived. Fare thee well ! 
These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself, 
Have banish'd me from Scotland. — O, my breast, 
Thy hopes end here ! 

Mai. Macduff, this noble passion, 

Child of integrity, hath from my soul 
Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts 
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth 
By many of these trains hath sought to win me 
Into his power ; and modest wisdom plucks me 
From over-credulous haste*: But God above 
Deal between thee and me ! for even now 
I put myself to thy direction, and 
Unspeak mine own detraction : here abjure 
The taints and blames I laid upon myself, 
For strangers to my nature. I am yet 
Unknown to woman ; never was forsworn ; 
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own: 
At no time broke my faith ; would not betray 
The devil to his fellow ; and delight 
No less in truth, than life : my first false speaking 

* Over-hasty credalitj. 



310 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Was this upon myself: What I am truly, 
Is thine, and my poor country's to command. 

AN OPPRESSED COUNTRY. 

Alas, poor country ; 
Almost afraid to know itself! it cannot 
Be call'd our mother, but our grave : where nothing, 
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile ; [air, 
Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent the 
Are made, not mark'd : where violent sorrow seems 
A modern ecstasy* : the dead man's knell 
Is there scarce ask'd, for who ; and good men's lives 
Expire before the flowers in their caps, 
Dying, or ere they sicken. 

MACDUFF'S BEHAVIOUR ON THE MURDER OF HIS WIFE 
AND CHILDREN. 

Rosse. 'Would I could answer 

This comfort with the like ! But I have words 
That would be howl'd out in the desert air, 
Where hearing should not latch t them. 

Macd. What concern they ? 

The general cause ? or is it a fee-grieft, 
Due to some single breast? 

Rosse. No mind, that's honest, 

But in it shares some woe ; though the main part 
Pertains to you alone. 

Macd. If it be mine, 

Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. 

Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue forever, 
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound, 
That ever yet they heard. 

Macd. Humph ! I guess at it. 

Rosse. Your castle is surpris'd; your wife and babes 
Savagely slaughter'd : to relate the manner, 
Were, on the quarry § of these murder'd deer, 
To add the death of you. 

Mai. Merciful heaven ! — 

* Common distress of mind. t Catch. 

X A grief that has a single owner. 
$ The game after it is killed. 






MACBETH. 3L1 

What, man? ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; 
Give sorrow words : the grief, that does not speak, 
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. 

Macd. My children too ? 

Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all 

That could be found. 

Macd. And I must be from thence ! 

My wife killed too ? 

Rosse. I have said. 

Mai. Be comforted : 

Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge, 
To cure this deadly grief. 

Macd. He has no children. — All my pretty ones ? 
Did you say, all?-0, hell-kite!— All? 
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam, 
At one fell swoop ? 

Mai. Dispute it like a man. 

Macd. I shall do so ; 

But I must also feel it as a man : 
I cannot but remember such things were, 
That were most precious to me. — Did heaven look on, 
And would not take their part ? Sinful Macduff, 
They were all struck for thee ! naught that I am, 
Not for their own demerits, but for mine, 
Fell slaughter on their souls : Hea\en rest them now ! 

Mai. Be this the whetstone of your sword : let grief 
Convert to anger ; blunt not the heart, enrage it. 

Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, 
And braggart with my tongue ! — But, gentle heaven, 
Cut short all intermission* ; front to front 
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; 
Within my sword's length set him ; if he 'scape, 
Heaven forgive him too ! 

Mai. This tune goes manly. 

Come, go we to the king ; our power is ready ; 
Our lack is nothing but our leave : Macbeth 
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above 
Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you 
The night is long, that never finds the day. [may ; 

* All pause. 



3H 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



ACT V, 
SCENE. Enter Lady Macbeth, with a Taper. 



■ 




Gent. Lo you, here she comes ! This is her very 
guise ; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her ; 
stand close. 

Doct. How came she by that light ? 

Gent. Why, it stood by her : she has light by her 
continually; 'tis her command. 

Doct. You see, her eyes are open. 

Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. 

Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she 
rubs her hands. 

Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem 
thus washing her hands ; I have known her continue 
in this a quarter of an hour. 

Lady M. Yet here's a spot. 

Doct. Hark, she speaks : I will set down what 
comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more 
strongly. 

Lady M. Out, damned spot ! out, I say !— One ; 
Two; Why, then 'tis time to do't: — Hell is murky*! 

* Dark. 



MACBETH. 313 

— Fie, my lord, fie ! a soldier, and afear'd ? What 
need we fear, who knows it, when none can call our 
power to account ? — Yet who would have thought 
the old man to have had so much blood in him? 

Doct. Do you mark that? 

Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife ; where is 

she now ? What, will these hands ne'er be clean ? 

— No more o' that, my lord, no more o'that : you 
mar all with this starting. 

Doct. Go to, go to ; you have known what you 
should not. » 

Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am 
sure of that : Heaven knows what she has known. 

Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still : ail 
the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little 
hand. Oh! oh! oh! 

Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely 
charged. 

Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, 
for the dignity of the whole body. 

Doct. W r ell, well, well. — 

Gent. 'Pray God, it be, sir. 

Doct. This disease is beyond my practice : Yet I 
have known those which have walked in their sleep, 
who have died holily in their beds. 

Lady 31. Wash your hands, put on your night- 
gown ; look not so pale : — I tell you yet again, 
Banquo's buried ; he cannot come out of his grave. 

Doct. Even so ? 

Lady M. To bed, to bed ; there's knocking at the 
gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand ; 
What's done, cannot be undone : To bed, to bed, to 
, bed. 

DESPISED OLD AGE. 

I have liv'd long enough : my way of life 
Is fall'n into the sear*, the yellow leaf: 
And that which should accompany old age, 
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, 

* Dry. 
E E 



314 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, 
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath, 
Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not. 

DISEASES OP THE MIND INCURABLE. 

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseasM; 
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow; 
Raze out the written troubles of the brain; 
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, 
Cleanse the stufFd bosom of that perilous stuff, 
Which weighs upon the heart? 

REFLECTIONS ON LIFE. 

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, 
To the last syllable of recorded time; 
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle I 
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player, 
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 
And then is heard no more : it is a tale 
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
Signifying nothing. 



<©tf)£iiO* 



ACT I. 



PREFERMENT. 

J. is the curse of service ; 
Preferment goes by letter, and affection, 
Not by the old gradation, where each second 
Stood heir to the first. 

IAGO'S DISPRAISE OF HONESTY. 

We cannot all be masters, nor all masters 
Cannot be truly follow ? d. You shall mark 



OTHELLO. 315 

Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, 
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, 
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, 
For nought but provender: and, when he's old, ca- 

shier'd : 
Whip me such honest knaves : Others there are, 
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, 
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves ; 
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, 
Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd 

their coats, 
Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul ; 
And such a one I do profess myself. 

For, sir, 
It is as sure as you are Roderigo, 
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago : 
In following him, I follow but myself; 
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, 
But seeming su, for my peculiar end: 
For when my outward action doth demonstrate 
The native act and figure of my heart 
In compliment extern*, 'tis not long after 
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve 
For daws to peck at : I am not what I am. 

LOVE, OTHELLO'S SOLE MOTIVE FOR MARRYING. 

For know, Iago, 
But that I love the gentle Desdemona, 
I would not my unhoused f free condition 
Put into circumscription and confine 
For the sea's worth. 

OTHELLO'S DESCRIPTION TO THE SENATE OF HIS WINNING 
THE AFFECTIONS OF DESDEMONA. 

Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, 
My very noble and approv'd good masters, 
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, 
It is most true ; true, I have married her; 

* Outward show of civility. t Unsettled. 



3L6 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

The very head and front of my offending 

Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, 

And little blessed with the set phrase of peace ; 

For since these arms of mine hath seven years' pith, 

Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us'd 

Their dearest action * in the tented field ; 

And little of this great world can I speak, 

More than pertains to feats of broil and battle; 

And therefore little shall I grace my cause, [tience, 

In speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious pa- 

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver 

Of my whole course of love : what drugs, what charms, 

What conjuration, and what mighty magic, 

(For such proceeding I am charged withal) 

I won his daughter with. 

* * * * -# 

Her father lov'd me ; oft invited me ; 

Still questioned me the story of my life, 

From year to year ; the battles, sieges, fortunes, 

That I have pass'd. 

I ran it through, even from my boyish days, 

To the very moment that he bade me tell it. 

Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances, 

Of moving accidents, by flood, and field ; 

Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach ; 

Of being taken by the insolent foe, 

And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence, 

And 'portance f in my travel's history: 

* * # * * 

These things to hear, 
Would Desdemona seriously incline: 
But still the house affairs would draw her thence; 
Which ever as she could with haste despatch, 
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear 
Devour up my discourse: Which, I observing, 
Took once a pliant hour; and found good means 
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, 

* Best exertion. t My behaviour. 



OTHELLO. 317 

That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, 
Whereof by parcels* she had something heard, 
But not intentively t: 1 did consent; 
And often did beguile her of her tears, 
When I did speak of some distressful stroke, 
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, 
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: 
She swore, — In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing 
? Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful : [strange ; 

She wish'd, she had not heard it ; yet she wish'd 
That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me; 
And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, 
I should but teach him how to tell my story, 
And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake : 
She lov'd me for the dangers I had passed ; 
And I lov'd her, that she did pity them. 



ACT II. 

PERFECT CONTENT. 

O, my soul's joy ? 
If after every tempest come such calms, 
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! 
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas, 
Olympus-high ; and duck again as low 
As hell's from heaven ! If it were now to die, 
'Twere now to be most happy ; for, I fear, 
My soul hath her content so absolute, 
That not another comfort like to this 
Succeeds in unknown fate. 

* Parts. 

f Intention and attention were once synonymous. 



ee2 



318 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ACT III. 

A LOVER'S EXCLAMATION. 

Farewell, my Desdemona: I will come to thee 
straight. 

***** 

[Exit Desdemona. 
Excellent wretch ! Perdition catch my soul, 
But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, 
Chaos is come again. 

OTHELLO'S FIRST SUSPICION. 

Oth. What dost thou think? 

Iago. Think, my lord ! 

Oth. Think, my lord f 

By heaven, he echoes me, 
As if there were some monster in his thought 
Too hideous to be shown. — Thou dost mean some 

thing: 
I heard thee say but now, — Thou lik'st not that, 
When Cassio left my wife ; What did'st not like ? 
And, when I told thee — he was of my counsel 
In my whole course of w r ooing, thou cry'dst, Indeed? 
And didst contract and purse thy brow together, 
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain 
Some horrible conceit : If thou dost love me, 
Show me thy thought. 

Iago. My lord, you know I love you. 

Oth. I think, thou dost ; 

And, — for I know thou art full of love and honesty, 
And w r eigb'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath, 
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more : 
For such things, in a false disloyal knave, 
Are tricks of custom ; but in a man that's just, 
They are close denotements, working from the heart. 
That passion cannot rule. 

REPUTATION. 

Good name, in man, and woman, dear my lord, 



OTHELLO. 319 

Is the immediate jewel of their souls : [nothing ; 
Who steals my purse, steals trash ; 'tis something-, 
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; 
But he that filches from me my good name, 
Robs me of that, which not enriches him, 
And makes me poor indeed. 

OTHELLO'S JEALOUSY GAINING GROUND. 

This fellow's of exceeding honesty, 
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, 
Of human dealings: If I do prove her haggard*, 
Though that her jesses f were my dear heart-strings, 
Td whistle her off, and let her down to the wind, 
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black ; 
And have not those soft parts of conversation 
That chamberers J have : — Or, for I am declin'd 
Into the vale of years : — yet that's not much; — 
She's gone ; I am abus'd ; and my relief 
Must be — to loath her. O, curse of marriage, 
That we can call these delicate creatures ours, 
And not their appetites ! I had rather be a toad, 
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, 
Than keep a corner in the thing I love, 
For other's uses. 

DEFINITION OF JEALOUSY. 

Trifles, light as air, 
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong 
As proofs of holy writ. 

THE TORTURES OF JEALOUSY. 

Iago. Look, where he comes ! [Enter Othello. 
Not poppy, nor mandragora §, 
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, 
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep 
Which thou ow'dst || yesterday. 

* A species of hawk, also a term of reproach applied to a 
wanton. 

t Straps of leather by which a hawk is held on the fist. 

X Men of intrigue. 

§ The mandrake has a soporific quality. || Possessed'st. 



320 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Oth. Ha! ha! false to me? 

Tome? 

J ago. Why, how now, general? no more of that. 

Oth. Avaunt! be gone ! thou hast set me on the 
I swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd, [rack: — 

Than but to know't a little. 

Iago. How now, my lord? 

Oth. What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust ? 
I saw it not, thought it not, it harm ? d not me : 
I slept the next night well, was free and merry ; 
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips : 
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen, 
Let him not know it, and he's not robb'd at all. 

Iago. I am sorry to hear this. 

Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp, 
Pioneers* and all, had tasted her sweet body, 
So I had nothing known : O, now, for ever, 
Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell content ! 
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, 
That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! 
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump. 
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, 
The royal banner; and all quality, 
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! 
And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats 
The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, 
Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! 

Iago. Is it possible ! — My lord, 

Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore ; 
Be sure of it ; give me the ocular proof; 

[Taking him by the Throat. 
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul, 
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog, 
Than answer my wak'd wrath. 

Iago. Is it come to this ? 

Oth. Make me to see it ; or (at the least) so prove it, 
That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop, 
To hang a doubt on : or, woe upon thy life ! 

* The vilest of the camp. Pioneers were generally degnulnl 
soldiers. 



OTHELLO. 321 

Iago. My noble lord 

Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture me, 
Never pray more : abandon all remorse * ; 
On horror's head horrors accumulate : 
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd, 
For nothing canst thou to damnation add, 
Greater than that. 

Iago. O, grace ; O, heaven, defend me ! 

Are you a man? have you a soul, or sense? — 
God be wi' you; take mine office. — O, wretched fool, 
That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice ! — 
O, monstrous world ! Take note, take note, O, world, 
To be direct and honest, is not safe. — 
I thank you for this profit ; and, from hence, 
I'll love no friend, since love breeds such offence. 

Oth. Nay, stay : — Thou should'st be honest. 

Iago. I should be wise ; for honesty's a fool, 
And loses that it works for. 

Oth. By the world, 

I think my wife be honest, and think she is not ; 
I think that thou art just, and think thou art not; 
I'll have some proof: Her name, that was as fresh 
As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black 
As mine own face. — If there be cords, or knives, 
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, 
I'll not endure it.— Would I were satisfied! 

OTHELLO'S STORY OF THE HANDKERCHIEF. 

Oth. That handkerchief 

Did an Egyptian to my mother give ; 
She was a charmer f, and could almost read 
The thoughts of people : she told her, while she kept it, 
'Twould make her amiable, and subdue my father 
Entirely to her love ; but if she lost it, 
Or made a gift of it, my father's eye 
Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt 
After new fancies : She, dying, gave it me ; 
And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, 
To give it her. I did so : and take heed oft, 
Make it a darling like your precious eye ; 

* All tenderness, all pity. t Enchantress. 



322 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

To lose or give 't away, were such perdition, 
As nothing else could match. 

Des. Is it possible ? 

Oth. 'Tis true : there's magic in the web of it : 
A sibyl, that had number'd in the world 
The sun to make two hundred compasses, 
In her prophetic fury sew'd the work: 
The worms were hallow'd, that did breed the silk; 
And it was died in mummy, which the skilful 
Conserv'd of maidens hearts. 

a lover's computation of time. 

What! keep a week away? seven days and nights? 
Eight score eight hours ? and lovers' absent hours, 
More tedious than the dial eight score times? 
O, weary reckoning ! 



ACT IV. 



OTHELLO'S DISTRACTION. 

Oth. What hath he said ? 

lago. 'Faith, that he did,— I know not what he did. 

Oth. What? what? 

Iago. Lie 

Oth. With her? 

Iago. With her, on her; what you will. 

Oth. Lie with her! Lie on her! — We say, lie on 
her, when they belie her: Lie with her! that's ful- 
some. — Handkerchief, — confessions, — handkerchief. 
To confess, and be hanged for his labour*. — First to 
be hanged, and then to confess : — I tremble at it. 
Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing 
passion, without some instruction. It is not words, 
that shake me thus: — Pish! — Noses, ears, and lips: 
— Is it possible? — Confess! — Handkerchief! — O, de- 
vil ! — [Falls in a Trance. 

HIS FONDNESS. 

A line woman ! a fair woman! a sweet woman ! 
* A proverbial sajing. 



OTHELLO. 323 

lago. Nay, you must forget that. 

Oth. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned 
to-night ; for she shall not live : No, my heart is 
turned to stone ; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. 
O, the world hath not a sweeter creature : she 
might lie by an emperor's side, and command him 
tasks. 

[ago. Nay, that's not your way. 

Oth. Hang her ; I do but say what she is : so de- 
licate with her needle ! — An admirable musician ! O, 
she will sing the savageness out of a bear! — Of so 
high and plenteous wit and invention! — 

lago. She's the worse for all this. 

Oth. O, a thousand, a thousand times : — And then, 
of so gentle a condition * ! 

lago. Ay, too gentle. 

Oth. Nay, that's certain : But yet the pity of it, 
lago! — O, lago, the pity of it, lago. 

HIS CONFIRMED JEALOUSY. 

Oth. Mistress, 

Des. My lord ! 

Oth. What would you with her, sir? 

Lod. Who, I, my lord ? 

Oth. Ay ; you did wish, that I would make her turn : 
Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, 
And turn again ; and she can weep, sir, weep ; 
And she's obedient, as you say, — obedient, — 
Very obedient ; — Proceed you in your tears. — 
Concerning this, sir, — O well-painted passion! 
I am commanded home : — Get you away ; 
I'll send for you anon. — Sir, I obey the mandate, 
And will return to Venice ; — Hence, avaunt ! 

[Exit Desdemona. 
Cassio shall have my place. And, — sir, to-night, 
I do entreat that we may sup together. 
You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. — Goats, and mon- 
kies ! [Exit. 

* Of so sweet a disposition. 



324 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

HIS PATHETIC UPBRAIDING OF DESDEMONA.. 




Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech im- 
port? 
I understand a fury in your words, 
But not the words. 

Oth. Why, what art thou ? 

Des. Your wife, my lord ; your true 

And loyal wife. 

Oth. Come, swear it, damn thyself; 

Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves 
Should fear to seize thee: therefore bedouble-damn'd, 
Swear — thou art honest. 

Des. Heaven doth truly know it. 

Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as hell. 

Des. To whom, my lord? with whom? How am I 

Oth. O Desdemona! away! away! away! [false? 

Des. Alas, the heavy day ! — Why do you weep ? 
Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord? 
If, haply, you my father do suspect, 
An instrument of this your calling back, 
Lay not your blame on me; if you have lost him, 
Why, I have lost him too. 

Oth. Had it pleased heaven 

To try me with affliction; had he rain'd 






OTHELLO. 325 

All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head; 

Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips ; 

Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes ; 

I should have found in some part of my soul 

A drop of patience: but (alas!) to make me 

A fixed figure, for the time of scorn 

To point his slow unmoving finger at, — 

O! O! 

Yet could 1 bear that too ; well, very well: 

But there, where I have garner'd* up my heart ; 

Where either I must live, or bear no life ; 

The fountain from the which my current runs, 

Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence ! 

Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads 

To knot and gender in ! — turn thy complexion there! 

Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim ; 

Ay, there, look grim as hell ! 

Des. I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest. 

Oth. O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles, 
That quicken even with blowiug. O thou weed, 
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet, 
That the sense aches at thee. — 'Would, thou hadst 
ne'er been born! 

Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? 

Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, 
Made to write whore upon? What committed! 
Committed ! — O thou public commoner ! 
I should make very forges of my cheeks, 
That would to cinders burn up modesty, 
Did I but speak thy deeds. — What committed! 
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks ; 
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, 
Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, 
And will not hear it : What committed ! — 
Impudent strumpet ! 

Des. By heaven, you do me wrong. 

Oth. Are not you a strumpet? 

Des. No, as I am a christian : 

* Treasured up. 
F F 



326 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

If to preserve this vessel for my lord, 
From any other foul unlawful touch, 
Be — not to be a strumpet, I am none. 

Oth. What, not a whore ? 

Des. No, as I shall be saved. 

Oth. Is it possible ? 

Des. O, heaven forgive us ! 

Oth. I cry you mercy, then ; 

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice, 
That married with Othello. 

DESDEMONA'S FIDELITY. 

O, good Iago, 
What shall I do to win my lord again? 
Good friend, go to him ; for, by this Jight of heaven, 
1 know not how I lost him. Here I kneel: — 
If e'er my will did trespass 7 gainst his love, 
Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed; 
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, 
Delighted them in any other form ; 
Or that I do not j^et, and ever did, 
And ever will, — though he do shake me off 
To beggarly divorcement, — love him dearly, 
Comfort forswear me ! Unkindness may do much ; 
And his unkindness may defeat my life, 
But never taint my love. 



ACT V. 



HIS LOVE. 



Had she been true, 
If heaven would make me such another vvoiid 
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite*, 
I'd not have sold her for it. 

* A precious stone. 



OTHELLO. 



327 



OTHELLO'S IRRESOLUTION TO MURDER DESDEMONA. 




SCENE. A Bedchamber : Desdemoxa in bed asleep. 
A light burning. 

It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, — 
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars ! — 
It is the cause. —Yet I'll not shed her blood; 
Nor scar that whiter skin of her's than snow, 
And smooth as monumental alabaster. 

Takes off his Sword. 
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. 
Put out the light, and then put out the light*; 
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, 
I can again thy former light restore, 
Should I repent me: — but once put out thine, 
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, 
I know not where is that Promethean heat, 
That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd thy 
I cannot give it vital growth again, [rose, 

It needs must wither: — I'll smell it on the tree. — 

[Kissing her. 
O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade 
Justice to break her sword! — One more, one more. — 
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, 

* i. e. The light of life. 



328 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And love thee after: — One more, and this the last: 
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, 
But they are cruel tears: This sorrow's heavenly ; 
It strikes, where it doth love. 

HIS CONFUSION AFTER THE MURDER. 

Yes ; — 'tis Emilia : — by and by. She's dead. 
? Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death : 
The noise was high. — Ha! no more moving? 
Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were'tgood? 
I think, she stirs again: — No. — What's the best? 
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife : 
My wife! my wife ! what wife? — I have no wife : 
O, insupportable! O heavy hour! 
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse 
Of sun and moon ; and that the affrighted globe 
Should yawn at alteration. 

HIS REMORSE. 

Behold ! I have a weapon ; 
A better never did itself sustain 
Upon a soldier's thigh : I have seen the day, 
That, with this little arm, and this good sword, 
I have made my way through more impediments 
Than twenty times your stop:— But, O vain boast! 
Who can control his fate ? 'tis not so now. — 
Be not afraid ; though you do see me weapon'd; 
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, 
And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. 
Do you go back dismay'd ? 'tis a lost fear; 
Man but a rush against Othello's breast, 
And he retires! — Where should Othello go?— 
Now, how dost thou look now ? O ill-starr'd wench ! 
Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt* 
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, 
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl I 
Even like thy chastity. — 
O, cursed, cursed slave ! — Whip me, ye devils, 
From the possession of this heavenly sight! 

* Account. 






OTHELLO. 329 

Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulphur ! 
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire ! — 
O, Desdemona! Desdemona! dead! 
Dead? O! O! O! 

HIS SPEECH BEFORE HIS DEATH. 

Soft, you ; a word or two, before you go. 
I have done the state some service, and they know it ; 
No more of that : — I pray you, in your letters, 
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, 
Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate, 
Nor set down aught in malice : then must you speak 
Of one, that lov'd not wisely, but too well ; 
Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought, 
Perplex'd in the extreme ; of one, whose hand, 
Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away, 
Richer than all his tribe ; of one, whose subdu'd eyes, 
Albeit unused to the melting mood, 
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 
Their medicinal gum : — Set you down this : 
And say, besides, — that in Aleppo once, 
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk 
Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state, 
I took by the throat the circumcised dog, 
And smote him — thus. \Stahs himself. 



Hotnexi attfr Mnliet 



ACT I. 

LOVE. 

JLrfovE is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs ; 
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes ; 
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears : 
"What is it else? a madness most discreet, 
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. 
f f 2 



330 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ON DREAMS. 

O, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with you. 
She is the fairies' midwife; and she comes 
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 
On the fore-finger of an alderman, 
Drawn with a team of little atomies* 
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : 
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners* legs; 
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; 
The traces, of the smallest spider's web ; 
The collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams: 
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film: 
Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, 
Not half so big as a round little worm 
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid : 
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, 
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, 
Time out of mind the fairies coach-makers. 
And in this state she gallops night by night 
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love : 
On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight : 
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees : 
O'er ladies lips, who straight on kisses dream; 
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, 
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. 
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, 
And then dreams he of smelling out a suitf: 
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, 
Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, 
Then dreams he of another benefice: 
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, 
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, 
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, 
Of healths d\e fathom deep ; and then anon 
Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes; 
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, 
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab, 

* Atoms. t A place in court. 






ROMEO AND JULIET* 331 

That plats the manes of horses in the night ; 
And bakes the elf-locks * in foul sluttish hairs, 
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes. 
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, 
That presses them, and learns them first to bear, 
Making them women of good carriage. 
This, this is she — 

Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace ; 

Thou talk'st of nothing. 

Mer. True, I talk of dreams ; 

Which are the children of an idle brain, 
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy ; 
Which is as thin of substance as the air ; 
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes 
Even now the frozen bosom of the north, 
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, 
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. 

DESCRIPTION OF A BEAUTY. 

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! 
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night 
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop'sf ear: 
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! 
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, 
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. 



ACT II. 

THE GARDEN SCENE. 

Enter Romeo. 
Rom* He jest at scars, that never felt a wound. — 
[Juliet appears above, at a Window. 
But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks! 
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! — 
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, 

* i. e. Fairy-locks, locks of hair clotted and tangled in the 
night. t An Ethiopian, a black. 



332 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Who is already sick and pale with grief, 

That thou her maid art far more fair than she : 

Be not her maid *, since she is envious ; 

Her vestal livery is but sick and green, 

And none but fools do wear it ; cast it oiF. — 

It is my lady ; O, it is my love : 

O, that she knew she were! 

She speaks, yet she says nothing ; What of that ? 

Her eye discourses, I will answer it. — 

I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks : 

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, 

Having some business, do intreat her eyes 

To twinkle in their spheres till they return. 

What if her eyes were there, they in her head ; 

The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, 

As daylight doth a lamp ; her eye in heaven 

Would through the airy region stream so bright, 

That birds would sing, and think it were not night. 

See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! 

O, that I were a glove upon that hand, 

That I might touch that cheek! 

Jul. Ah, me ! 

Rom. She speaks :— - 

O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art 
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, 
As is a winged messenger of heaven 
Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes 
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him, 
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, 
And sails upon the bosom of the air. 

Jul. O, Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? 
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name : 
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, 
And I'll no longer be a Capulct. 

Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this ? 

[Aside. 

Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy. 



A votary to the moon, to Diana. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 333 

What's in a name ? that which we call a rose, 
By any other name, would smell as sweet ; 
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, 
Retain that dear perfection which he owes*, 
Without that title: — Romeo, dofff thy name; 
And for that name, which is no part of thee, 
Take all myself. 

Rom. I take thee at thy word : 

Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; 
Henceforth I never will be Romeo. [night, 

Jul, What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in 
So stumblest on my counsel? 

Rom. By a name 

I know not how to tell thee who I am : 
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, 
Because it is an enemy to thee ; 
Had I it written, I would tear the word. 

Jul, My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words 
.Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound ; 
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? 

Rom, Neither, fair saint, if either thou dislike. 

JwZ. How cam's t thou hither, tell me? and wherefore? 
The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb ; 
And the place death, considering who thou art, 
If any of my kinsmen find thee here. [walls ; 

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'erperch these 
For stony limits cannot hold love out: 
And what love can do, that dares love attempt, 
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let % to me. 

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. 

Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye, 
Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet, 
And I am proof against their enmity. 

Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. 

Rom. I have a night's cloak to hide rne from their 
sight; 
And, but thou love me§, let them find me here : 

* Owns, possesses. t Do off. 

X Hinderance. § Unless tbou love me. 



334 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

My life were better ended by their hate, 
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. 

Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place ? 

Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire ; 
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. 
I am no pilot ; yet, wert thou as far 
As that vast shore washed with the furthest sea, 
1 would adventure for such merchandize. 

Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face; 
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, 
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. 
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny 
What I have spoke ; But farewell compliment ! 
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say — Ay ; 
And I will take thy word : yet, if thou swear'st. 
Thou may'st prove false ; at lovers' perjuries, 
They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo, 
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully : 
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, 
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, 
So thou wilt woo ; but, else, not for the world. 
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond ; 
And therefore thou may'st think my haviour* light : 
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true 
Than those that have more cunning to be strange f- 
I should have been more strange, I must confess, 
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, 
My true love's passion : therefore pardon me ; 
And not impute this yielding to light love, 
Which the dark night hath so discovered. 

Horn. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, 
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops — 

Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant 
That monthly changes in her circled orb, [moon,, 
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. 

Rom. AY hat shall I swear by? 

Jul. Do not swear at all ; 

Or, if thou wilt, sw ear by thy gracious self, 

* Behaviour. t Sliy. 



I 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 335 

Which is the god of my idolatry, 
And I'll believe thee. 

Rom. If my heart's dear love — 

Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, 
I have no joy of this contract to-night: 
It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden ; 
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, 
Ere one can say — It lightens. Sweet, good-night ! 
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, 
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. 
Good night, good night ! as sweet repose and rest 
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast ! 

Rom. O, w r ilt thou leave me so unsatisfied ? 

Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? 

Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for 
mine. 

Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it : 
And yet I would it were to give again. 

Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it ? for what pur- 
pose, love ? 

Jul But to be frank*, and give it thee again. 
A lid yet I wish but for the thing I have : 
My bounty is as boundless as the sea, 
My love as deep ; the more I give to thee, 
The more 1 have, for both are infinite. 

[Nurse calls within. 
I hear some noise within ; Dear love, adieu ! 
Anon, good nurse ! — Sweet Montague, be true. 
Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit. 

Rom. O blessed, blessed night ! I am afeard, 
Being in night, all this is but a dream. 
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. 

Re-enter Juliet, above. 
Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night> 
indeed. 
If that thy bentt of love be honourable, 

* Free. f Inclination. 



336 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Tby purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, 

By one that I'll procure to come to thee, 

Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite ; 

And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay, 

And follow thee my lord throughout the world. 

Nwse. \ Within.] Madam. 

Jul. I come, anon : — But if thou mean'st not well, 
I do beseech thee, — 

Nurse. [Within.] Madam. 

Jul. By and by, I come : — 

To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief; 
To-morrow will I send. 

Rom. So thrive my soul — 

Jul. A thousand times good night ! [Exit. 

Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy 

light. — : [books ; 

Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their 

But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. 

[Retiring slowly. 

Re-enter Juliet, above. 

Jul. Hist ! Romeo, hist! — O, for a falconer's voice ! 
To lure this tassel-gentle* back again ! 
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ; 
Else would I tear the cave where echo lies, 
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine 
With repetition of my Romeo's name. 

Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name : 
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, 
Like softest music to attending ears! 

Jul. Romeo ! 

Rom. My sweet ! 

Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow 

Shall I send to thee ? 

Rom. At the hour of nine. 

Jul. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years till then, 
I have forgot why 1 did call thee back. 

* The male of the goshawk. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 337 

Rom. Let ine stand here till thou remember it. 

Jul, I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, 
Reinemb'ring how I love thy company. 

Rom, And I'll still stay ; to have thee still forget, 
Forgetting any other home but this. 

Jul, 'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone : 
And yet no further than a wanton's bird; 
Who lets it hop a little from her hand, 
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves*, 
And with a silk thread plucks it back again, 
So loving-jealous of his liberty. 

Rom. I would, I were thy bird. 

Jul, Sweet, so would I ; 

Yet I would kill thee with much cherishing. 
Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet sor- 
row, 
That I shall say — good night, till it be morrow. 

love's heralds. 
Love's heralds should be thoughts, 
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, 
Driving back shadows over low'ring hills : 
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, 
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. 

VIOLENT DELIGHTS NOT LASTING. 

These violent delights have violent ends, 
And in their triumph die ; like fire and powder, 
Which, as they kiss, consume. 

lover's light of foot. 

O, so light a foot 
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint : 
A lover may bestride the gossomerst 
That idle in the wanton summer air, 
And yet not fall ; so light is vanity. 

* Fetters. 

t Tiie long white filament which flies in the air. 



G G 



330 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



ACT III. 

ROMEO ON HIS BANISHMENT. 

SCENE. Friar Laurence's Cell. 




Enter Friar Laurence and Romeo. 

Fri. A gentler judgment vanished from his lips, 
Not body's death, but body's banishment. 

Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say — death: 
For exile hath more terror in his look, 
Much more than death: do not say— banishment. 

Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished; 
Be patient: for the world is broad and wide. 

Rom. There is no world without Verona walls, 
But purgatory, torture, hell itself. 
Hence banished, is banish'd from the world, 
And world's exile is death: — then banishment 
Js death mis-term'd : calling death— banishment 
Thou cut'st my head oft* with a golden axe, 
And smil'st upon the stroke that murders me. 

Fri. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! 
Thy fault our law calls death ; but the kind prince, 
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 330 

And turn'd that black word death to banishment: 
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. 

Rom. 7 Tis torture, and not mercy : heaven is here, 
Where Juliet lives ; and every cat, and dog, 
And little mouse, every unworthy thing, 
Live here in heaven, and may look on her, 
But Romeo may not. — More validity*, 
More honourable state, more courtship lives 
In carrion flies, than Romeo : they may seize 
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand, 
And steal immortal blessing from her lips ; 
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, 
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin ; 
But Romeo may not ; he is banished: 
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly; 
They are free men, but I am banished. 
And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death? 
Hast thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-grcund knife, 
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, 
But— banished — to kill me; banished? 
O, friar, the damned use that word in hell ; 
Howlings attend it : how hast thou the heart, 
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, 
A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, 
To mangle me with that word — banishment ? 

Fri. Thou fond madman, hear me but speak a 
word. 

Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment ! 

Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep off that word ; 
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, 
To comfort thee, though thou art banished. 

Rom. Yet banished ! — Hang up philosophy ! 
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, 
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom ; 
It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more. 

Fri. O, then I see that madmen have no ears. 

Rom. How should they, when that wise men have 
no eyes ? 

* Worth, value. 



340 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. 

Horn. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not 
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, [feel : 
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, 
Doting like me, and like me banished, [hair, 

Then might'stthou speak, then might'st thou tear thy 
And fall upon the ground, as I do now, 
Taking the measure of an unmade grave. 

a lover's impatience. 

Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, 
Towards Phoebus' mansion ; such a waggoner 
As Phaeton would whip you to the west, 
And bring in cloudy night immediately. — 
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night! 
That runaway's eyes may wink ; and Romeo 
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of, and unseen ! — 
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites 
By their own beauties : or, if love be blind, 
It best agrees with night. 

RELUCTANCE OF LOVERS TO PART. 

SCENE. Juliet's Chamber. 

Jul. Wilt thou be gone ? it is not yet near day 
It was the nightingale, and not the lark, 
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear ; 
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree: 
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. 

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, 
No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks 
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east : 
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops ; 
I must be gone and live, or stay and die. 

Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I : 
It is some meteor that the sun exhales, 
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, 
And light thee on thy way to Mantua : 
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 341 

Rom. Let me be ta'en. let Die be put to death ; 
I fim content, so thou wilt have it so. 
I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye. 
Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow*; 
Xor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat 
The vanity heaven so high above our heads : 
I have more caret to stay, than will to go: — 
Come, death, and welcome ! Juliet wills it so. — 
How is't. my soul? let's talk, it is not day, 



ACT IT. 

JULIET'S RESOLUTION. 

O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris. 

From off the battlements of yonder tower ; 

Or walk in thievish ways ; or bid me lurk 

Where serpents are : chain me with roaring bears ; 

Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house. 

O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, 

With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless sculls ; 

Or bid me go into a new-made grave. 

And hide me with a dead man in his shroud : [ble : 

Things that, to hear them told, have made ine trem- 

And I will do it without fear or doubt. 

To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. 

JOY CHANGED TO SORROW. 

All things, that we ordained for festival. 
Turn from their office to black funeral ; 
Our instruments, to melancholy bells : 
Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast; 
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change : 
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse. 
And all things change them to the contrary. 

* Reflection of the moon. t Inclination. 

G G 2 



342 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

JULIET'S SOLILOQUY ON DRINKING THE OPIATE. 




Farewell! — God knows when we shall meet again. 
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, 
That almost freezes up the heat of life : 
I'll call them back again to comfort me ; — 
Nurse ! — What should she do here ? 
My dismal scene I needs must act alone.-^- 
Come, phial. — 

What if this mixture do not work at all ? 
Must I of force be married to the county? — 
No, no ; — this shall forbid it : — lie thou there. — 

[Laying down a dagger. 
What if it be a poison, which the friar 
Subtly hath ministerd to have me dead; 
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonoured, 
Because he married me before to Romeo? 
I fear, it is : and yet, methinks, it should not, 
For he hath still been tried a holy man : 
I will not entertain so bad a thought. — 
How if, when I am laid into the tomb, 
I wake before the time that Romeo 
Come to redeem me ? there's a fearful point ' 
Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, 
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, 
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? 









ROMEO AND JULIET. 343 

Or, if I live, is it not very like, 

The horrible conceit of death and night, 

Together with the terror of the place, — 

As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, 

Where, for these many hundred years, the bones 

Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd : 

Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, 

Lies fest'ring in his shroud ; where, as they say, 

At some hours in the night spirits resort ; — 

Alack, alack ! is it not like, that I, 

So early waking, — what with loathsome smells ; 

And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth, 

That living mortals, hearing them, run mad * ; — 

O ! if I wake, shall [ not be distraught f, 

Environed with all these hideous fears ? 

And madly play with my forefathers' joints? 

And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? 

And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone, 

As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? 

O, look ! methinks, I see my cousin's ghost 

Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body 

Upon a rapier's point : — Stay, Tibalt, stay ! — 

Romeo, I come I this do I drink to thee. 

[She throws herself on the Bed. 



ACT V. 

romeo's description and discourse with the 
apothecary. 
Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to night. 
Let's see for means : — O, mischief, thou art swift 
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men ! 
I do remember an apothecary, — 
And hereabouts he dwells, — whom late I noted 
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, 

* The fabulous accounts of the plant called a mandrake 
give it a degree of animal life, and when it is torn from the 
ground it groans, which is fatal to him that pulls it up. 

t Distracted. 



344 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



Culling of simples* ; meagre were his looks, 
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, 
Sharp misery had worn him to to the bones : 
An alligator stuff'd, and other skins 
Of ill-shap'd fishes ; and about his shelves 
A beggarly account of empty boxes, 
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, 
Remants of packthread, and old cakes of roses, 
Were thinly scatter' d, to make up a show. 
Noting this penury, to myself I said — 
And if a man did need a poison now, 
Whose sale is present death in Mantua, 
Here lives a caitiff- wretch would sell it him. 
O, this same thought did but fore-run my need. 
And this same needy man must sell it me. 
As I remember, this should be the house : 
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. — 
What, ho ! apothecary ! 

Enter Apothecary. 




Ap. Who calls so loud? 

Ri/ni. Come hither, man. — I see, that thou arl poor; 
Hold, there is forty ducats : let me have 
A dram of poison; such soon-speeding geert 



Herbs. 



t Slufl'. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 345 

As will disperse itself through all the veins, 

That the life-weary taker may fall dead ; 

And that the trunk may be diseharg'd of breath 

As violently, as hasty powder fir'd 

Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. 

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law 
Is death, to any he that utters them. 

Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness, 
And fear'st to die ? famine is in thy cheeks, 
Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes, 
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery, 
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law : 
The world affords no law to make thee rich ; 
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. 

Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents. 

Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. 

Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will, 
And drink it off; and, if you had the strength 
Of twenty men, it would despatch you straight. 

Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to men's 
souls, 
Doing more murders in this loathsome world, 
Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not sell : 
I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none. 
Farewell ; buy food, and get thyself in flesh. 

THE CONTEST OF ROMEO AND PARIS. 

Par. Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague ; 
Can vengeance be pursued further than death? 
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee : 
Obey, and go with me ; for thou must die. 

Rom. I must, indeed ; and therefore came I 
hither. — 
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man, 
Fly hence and leave me ; — think upon these gone ; 
Let them affright thee. — I beseech thee, youth, 
Heap not another sin upon my head, 
By urging me to fury : — O, be gone ! 
By heaven, I love thee better than myself: 
For I come hither arm'd against myself; 



346 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Stay not, begone ; — live, and hereafter say — 
A madman's mercy bade thee run away. 

Par. I do defy thy conjurations* 
And do attach thee as a felon here. 

Rom. Wilt thou provoke me ? then have at thee, 
boy. [They fight. 

Par. O, I am slain ! [Falls.'] — If thou be merciful, 
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies. 

Rom. In faith, I will : — Let me peruse this face ; — 
Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris: — 
What said my man, when my betossed soul 
Did not attend him as we rode ? I think, 
He told me, Paris should have married Juliet: 
Said he not so ? or did I dream it so ? 
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, 
To think it was so? — O, give me thy hand, 
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book ! 

ROMEO'S LAST SPEECH OVER JULIET IN THE TOMB. 

O, my love ! my wife ! 
Death that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, 
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty : 
Thou art not conquer'd ; beauty's ensign yet 
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, 
And death's pale flag is not advanced there. — 
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? 
O, what more favour can I do to thee, 
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain, 
To sunder his that was thine enemy ? 
Forgive me, cousin ! — Ah, dear Juliet, 
Why art thou yet so fair ? Shall I believe 
That unsubstantial death is amorous ; 
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps 
Thee here in dark to be his paramour ? 
For fear of that, I will stay with thee; 
And never from this palace of dim night 
Depart again; here, here will I remain 

* I refuse to do as thon conjurest me to do ; i. e. depart. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 347 

With worms that are thy chambermaids - } O, here 
Will I set up rrry everlasting rest ; 
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars 
From this world-wearied flesh. — Eyes look your last ! 
Arms, take your last embrace ! and lips, O you 
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss 
A dateless bargain to engrossing death !— 
Come, bitter conduct*, come, unsavoury guide ! 
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on 
The dashing rocks thy sea- sick weary bark ? 
Here's to my love ! — \ Drinks.] O, true apothecary ! 
Thy drugs are quick. — Thus with a kiss I die. [Dies. 



ftimon of Mfyem. 



ACT I. 

PAINTING. 

J. he painting is almost the natural man ; 
For since dishonour traffics with man's nature, 
He is but outside : These pencil'd figures are 
Even such as they give outf. 

THE PLEASURE OF DOING GOOD. 

O, you gods, think I, what need we have any 
friends, if we should never have need of them ? they 
were the most needless creatures living, should we 
ne'er have use for them: and would most resemble 
sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their 
sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished 
myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. 
We are born to do benefits: and what better orpro- 

* Conductor. 

t Pictures have no hypocrisy; they are what they profess 
to be. 



348 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

perer can we call our own, than the riches of our 
friends ? O, what a precious comfort 'tis, to have so 
many, like brothers, commanding one another's for- 
tunes ! 



ACT II. 

A FAITHFUL STEWARD. 

So the gods bless me, 

When all our offices * have been oppress'd 

With riotous feeders ; when our vaults have wept 

With drunken spilth of wine ; when every room 

Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsy ; 

I have relir'd me to a wasteful cockf, 

And set mine eyes at flow. 

INGRATITUDE. 

They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, 
That now they are at fall J, want treasure, cannot 
Do what they would; are sorry— you are honour- 
able, — 
But yet they could have wish'd— -they know not — but 
Something hath been amiss — a noble nature 
May catch a wrench — would all were well— 'tis 

pity— 
And so, intending! other serious matters, 
After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions ||, 
With certain half-caps H, and cold-moving nods, 
They froze me into silence. 

* The apartments alloted to culinary offices, &c. 

t A pipe with a turning stopple running to waste. 

% i. e At an ebb. 

§ Intending, had anciently the same meaning as attending. 

|| Broken hints, abrupt remarks. 

% A half cap is a cap slightly moved, not put ofl*. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 349 

ACT III. 

THE MISERABLE SHIFTS OF INGRATITUDE. 

Ser. My honoured lord, — [To Lucius. 

Luc. Servilius ! you are kindly met, sir, Fare thee 
well:— Commend me to thy honourable virtuous 
lord, my very exquisite friend. 

Ser. May it please your honour, my lord hath 
sent 

Luc. Ha ! what has he sent ? I am so much en- 
deared to that lord ; he's ever sending : How shall 
I thank him, thinkest thou ? And what has he sent 
now? 

Ser. He has only sent his present occasion now, 
my lord ; requesting j^our lordship to supply his in- 
stant use with so many talents. 

Luc. I know his lordship is but merry with me ; 
He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents. 

Ser. But in the mean time he wants less, my lord. 
If his occasion were not virtuous*, 
I should not urge it half so faithfully. 

Luc. Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius? 

Ser. Upon my soul, 'tis true, sir. 

Luc. What a wicked beast was I, to disfurnish 
myself against such a good time, when I might have 
shown myself honourable ? how unluckily it hap- 
pened, that I should purchase the day before for a 
little part, and undo a great deal of honour ; — Ser- 
vilius, now before the gods, I am not able to do't ; 
the more beast, I say :-r-I was sending to use lord 
Timon myself, these gentlemen can witness ; but I 
would not, for the wealth of Athens, I had done it 
now. Commend me bountifully to his good lordship ; 
and I hope, his honour will conceive the fairest of 
me, because I have no power to be kind: And tell 
him this from me, I count it one of my greatest af- 
flictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an honour- 

* " If he did not want it for a good use." 
H H 



350 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

able gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend 
me so far, as to use mine own words to him ? 
Ser. Yes, sir, I shall. 

Luc. I will look you out a good turn, Servilius. — 

[Exit Servilius. 
True, as you said, Timon is shrunk, indeed ; 
And he, that's once denied, will hardly speed. 

[Exit. 

AGAINST DUELLING. 

Your words have took such pains, as if they 
labour'd 
To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling 
Upon the head of valour ; which, indeed, 
Is valour misbegot, and came into the world 
When sects and factions were but newly born: 
He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer 
The worst that man can breathe ; and make his wrongs 
His outsides ; wear them like his raiment, carelessly ; 
And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, 
To bring it into danger. 



ACT IV. 



to the courtezans. 

Consumptions sow 
In hollow bones of man ; strike their sharp shins, 
And mar mens spurring. Crack the lawyers voice, 
That he may never more false title plead, 
Nor sound his quillets* shrilly: hoar the flainen, 
That scolds against the quality of flesh, 
And not believes himself: down with the nose, 
Down with it flat ; take the bridge quite away 
Of him, that his particular to foresee, [flans bald ; 
Smells from the general weal : make cuiTd-patc ruf- 
And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war 
Derive some pain from you. 

* Subtilties. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 351 

TIMON'S EXECRATION OF THE ATHENIANS. 

SCENE. Without the walls of Athens. 



Let me look back upon thee, O thou wall, 
That girdlest in those wolves! Dive in the earth. 
And fence not Athens ! Matrons, turn incontinent; 
Obedience fail in children! slaves, and fools, 
Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench, 
And minister in their steads ! to general filths* 
Convert o' the instant, green virginity ! 
Do't in your parents eyes ! bankrupts, hold fast ; 
Rather than render back, out with your knives, 
And cut your truster's throats ! bound servants, steal ! 
Large handed robbers your grave masters are, 
And pill by law! maid, to thy master's bed ; 
Thy mistress is o' the brothel ! son of sixteen, 
Pluck the lin'd crutch from the old limping sire, 
With it beat out his brains ! piety, and fear, 
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, 
Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood, 
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, 
Degrees, observances, customs, and laws, 

* Common sewers. 



352 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Decline to your confounding contraries *, 
And yet confusion live ! — Plagues, incident to men, 
Your potent and infectious fevers heap 
I On Athens, ripe for stroke ! thou cold sciatica, 
Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt 
As lamely as their manners ! lust and libertyf 
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth ; 
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive, 
And drown themselves in riot ! itches, blains, 
Sow all the Athenian bosoms ; and their crop 
Be general leprosy ! breath infect breath ; 
That their society, as their friendship, may 
Be merely poison ! Nothing I'll bear from thee, 
But nakedness, thou detestable town ! 

A FRIEND FORSAKEN. 

As we do turn our backs 
From our companion, thrown into his grave : 
So his familiars to his buried fortunes 
Slink all away; leave their false vows with him, 
Like empty purses pick'd : and his poor self, 
A dedicated beggar to the air, 
AVith his disease of all-shunn'd poverty, 
Walks, like contempt, alone. 

ON GOLD. 

Earth, yield me roots ! [Digging. 

Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate 
With thy most operant poison ! What is here? 
Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods 
I am no idle votaristj:. Roots, you clear heavens ! 
Thus much of this, will make black, white ; foul, fair ; 
Wrong, right; base, noble; old, young; coward, 
valiant. [this 

Ha, you gods! why this ? What this, you gods ? Why 

* i. e. Contrarieties, whose nature it is to waste or destroy 
each other. 

t For libertinism. 

X No insincere or inconstant supplicant. Gold will not 
serve me instead of roots. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 353 

Will lug your priests and servants from your sides ; 
Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads : 
This yellow slave 

AVill knit and break religions ; bless the accurs'd ; 
Make the hoar leprosy ador'd ; place thieves, 
And give them title, knee, and approbation, 
With senators on the bench : this is it, 
That makes the wappen'd* widow wed again; 
She, whom the spital-house, and ulcerous sores 
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices 
To the April day again f. Come, damned earth, 
Thou common whore of mankind, that putt'st odds 
Among the rout of nations, I will make thee 
Do thy right nature. 

TIMON TO ALCIBIADES. 

Go on, — here's gold, — go on ; 
Be as a planetary plague, when Jove 
Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison 
In the sick air : Let not thy sword skip one : 
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard, 
He's an usurer: Strike me the counterfeit matron ; 
It is her habit only that is honest, 
Herself 's a bawd : Let not the virgin's cheek 
Make soft thy trenchant^ sword; for those milk-paps, 
That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes, 
Are not within the leaf of pitj r writ, 
Set them down horrible traitors : Spare not the babe, 
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy ; 
Think it a bastard §, whom the oracle 
Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut, 
And mince it sans remorse|| : Swear against objects^!; 
Put armour on thine ears, and on thine eyes ; 
Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes, 
Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, 

* Sorrowful. 

t i. e. Gold restores her to all the sweetness and freshness of 
youth. t Catting. 

§ An allusion to the tale of (Edipus. || Without pity. 

^ i. e. Against objects of charity and compassion. 
HH 2 



354 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay thy soldiers : 
Make large confusion ; and, thy fury spent, 
Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone. 

HIS REFLECTIONS ON THE EARTH. 

That nature, being sick of man's unkindness, 
Should yet be hungry! — Common mother, thou, 

[Digging. 
Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast *, 
Teems, and feeds all ; whose self-same mettle, 
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is pufPd, 
Engenders the black toad, and adder blue, 
The gilded newt, and eyeless venomM wormf, 
With all the abhorred births below crisp J heaven 
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine; 
Yield him, whom all thy human sons doth hate, 
From forth thy plenteous bosom one poor root! 
Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb, 
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man ! 
Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears ; 
Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face 
Hath to the marbled mansion all above 
Never presented ! — O, a root, — Dear thanks! 
Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas ; 
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts, 
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, 
That from it all consideration slips ! 

HIS DISCOURSE WITH APEMANTUS. 

Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected ; 
A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung 
From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place ? 
This slave-like habit? and these looks of care? 
Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft; 
Hug their diseasd perfumes §, and have forgot 
That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods, 
By putting on the cunning of a carper ||, 

* Boundless surface. 

t The serpent called the blind worm. | Bent. 

6 i e. Their diseased perfumed mistresses. 

f| i, e. Shame not these woods by finding fault. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 355 

Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive 
By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee, 
And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe, 
Blow off thy cap ; praise his most vicious strain, 
And call it excellent: Thou wast told thus; 
Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters, that bid welcome, 
To knaves, and all approachers: 'Tis most just, 
That thou turn rascal ; hadst thou wealth again, 
Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness. 

Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself. 

Apemjihou hast cast away thyself,beinglike thyself; 
A madman so long, now a fool : What, think'st 
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, 
Will put thy shirt on warm ? Will these moss'd trees, 
That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels, 
And skip when thou poinfst out? Will the cold brook, 
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste, 
To cure thy o'ernight's surfeit? call the creatures, — 
Whose naked natures live in all the spite 
Of wreakful heaven ; whose bare unhoused trunks, 
To the conflicting elements expos'd, 
Answer mere nature, — bid them flatter thee; 

O ! thou shalt find 

***** 

Tim. Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm 
With favour never clasp'd ; but bred a dog, 
Hadst thou, like us, from our first swath*, proceeded 
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords 
To such as may the passive drugs of it 
Freely command, thou would'st have plung'd thyself 
In general riot ; melted down thy youth 
In different beds of lust; and never learn'd 
The icy precepts of respect frbut folio w'd 
The sugar'd game before thee. But myself, 
Who had the world as my confectionary ; 
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men 
At duty, more than I could frame employment ; 

* From infancy. 

t The cold admonitions of cautious prudence. 



356 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves 
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush 
Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare 
For every storm that blows ;— I, to bear this, 
That never knew but better, is some burden: 
Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time [men? 
Hath made thee hard in't. Why should'st thou hate 
They never flatter'd thee: What hast thou given? 
If thou wilt curse, — thy father, that poor rag, 
Must be thy subject; who, in spite, put stuff 
To some she beggar, and compounded thee 
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone! — 
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men, 
Thou hadst been a knave, and flatterer. 

ON GOLD. 

O, thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce 

[Looking on the Gold, 
? Twixt natural son and sire ! Thou bright defiler 
Of Hymen's purest bed ! thou valiant Mars! 
Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, 
Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow 
That lies on Dian's lap ! thou visible god, 
That solder'st close impossibilities, 
And mak'st them kiss ! that speak'st with every tongue, 
To every purpose ; O, thou touch* of hearts! 
Think, thy slave man rebels; and by thy virtue 
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts 
May have the world in empire! 

TIMON TO THE THIEVES. 

Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots ; 
Within this mile break forth a hundred springs : 
The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips; 
The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush 
Lays her full mess before you. Want? why want? 

1 Thief. We cannot live on grass, on berries, water, 
As beasts, and birds, and fishes. [fishes ; 

Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and 

* For touchstone. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 357 

You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con, 
That you are thieves profess'd ; that you work not 
In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft 
In limited* professions. Rascal thieves, 
Here's gold : Go, suck the subtle blood of the grape, 
Till the high fever seeth your blood to froth, 
And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician; 
His antidotes are poison, and he slays 
More than you rob : take wealth and lives together ; 
Do, villany, do, since you profess to do't, 
Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery: 
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction 
Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief, 
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun : 
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves 
The moon into salt tears : the earth's a thief, 
That feeds and breeds by a composturef stolen 
From general excrement: each thing's a thief; 
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power 
Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves: away; 
Rob one another. There's more gold : Cut throats ; 
All that you meet are thieves: To Athens, go, 
Break open shops ; nothing can you steal, 
But thieves do lose it. 

ON HIS HONEST STEWARD. 

Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, 
Perpetual sober gods! I do proclaim 
One honest man, — mistake me not, — but one ; 
No more, I pray, — and he is a steward. — 
How fain would I have hated all mankind, 
And thou redeem'st thyself: But all, save thee, 
I fell with curses. 

Methinks, thou art more honest now, than wise ; 
For, by oppressing and betraying me, 
Thou might'st have sooner got another service : 
For many so arrive at second masters, 
Upon their first lord's neck. 

* For legal. t Compost, manure. 



358 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAKE. 



ACT V. 

PROMISING AND PERFORMANCE. 

Promising is Ihe very air o' the time : it opens the 
eyes of expectation : performance is ever the duller 
for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind 
of people, the deed of saying* is quite out of use. 
To promise is most courtly and fashionable : per- 
formance is a kind of will or testament, which ar- 
gues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it. 

WRONG AND INSOLENCE. 

Now breathless wrong 
Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease ; 
And pursy insolence shall break his wind, 
With fear and horrid flight. 



®ttit0 sntoonfotft* 



ACT I. 

MERCY. 



Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? 
Draw near them then in being merciful: 
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge. 



Thanks, to men 
Of noble minds, is honourable meed. 

* The doing of that we said we would l\o. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



359 



ACT II. 

INVITATION TO LOVE. 




My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad, 
When every thing doth make a gleeful boast ? 
The birds ehaunt melody on every bush ; 
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun ; 
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, 
And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground: 
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, 
And— whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, 
Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns, 
As if a double hunt were heard at once,— 
Let us sit down, and mark their yelling noise : 
And, after conflict, such as was suppos'd 
The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy 'd, 
When with a happy storm they were surprised, 
And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave, — 
We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, 
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber; 
Whiles hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious birds, 
Be unto us, as is a nurses song 
Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep. 



360 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



DESCRIPTION OF A MELANCHOLY VALLEY. 

A barren detested vale, you see, it is : 
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, 
O'ercome with moss, and baleful misletoe. 
Here never shines the sun j here nothing breeds, 
Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven. 
And, when they show'd me this abhorred pit, 
They told me, here, at dead time of night, 
A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, 
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins*, 
Would make such fearful and confused cries, 
As any mortal body, hearing it, 
Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenty. 

DESCRIPTION OF A RING. 

Upon his bloody finger he doth wear 
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, 
Which, like a taper in some monument, 
Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, 
And shows the ragged entrails of this pit. 

LAVINIA AT HER LUTE, 

Fair Philonjela, she but lost her tongue, 
And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind : 
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee ; 
A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal, 
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, 
That could have better sew'd than Philomel. 
O, had the monster seen those lily hands 
Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute, 
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them ; 
He would not then have touch'd them for his life : 
Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony, 
Which that sweet tongue hath made, 
He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep, 
As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's f feet. 

* Hedge-hogs. t Orpheus. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 361 

ACT III. 

lavinia's loss of her tongue described. 
O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, 
That blab'd them with such pleasing eloquence, 
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage : 
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung 
$weet varied notes, enchanting every ear! 

DESPAIR. 

For now I stand as one upon a rock, 
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea; 
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, 
Expecting ever when some envious surge 
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. 

TEARS. 

When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears 
Stood on her cheeks ; as doth the honey dew 
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd. 

CRUELTY TO INSECTS. 

Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kili'd a fly. 

Tit, But how, if that fly had a father and mother? 
How would he hang his slender gilded wings, 
And buz lamenting doings in the air? 
Poor harmless fly ! 

That with his pretty buzzing melody, [him. 

Came here to make us merry; and thou hast kili'd 



ACT V. 



REVENGE. 

Lo, by thy side where Rape, and Murder, stands ; 
Now give some 'surance that thou art Revenge, 
Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot wheels; 
And then I'll come, and be thy waggoner, 
And whirl along with thee about the globe. 
Provide the proper palfries, black as jet, 
i I 



362 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away, 
And find oat murderers in their guilty caves: 
And, when thy car is loaden with their heads, 
I will dismount, and by the waggon wheel 
Trot, like a servile footman, all day long; 
Even from Hyperion's rising in the east, 
Until his very downfal in the sea. 



moilm aria <&m*ft& 



ACT I. 

ON DEGREE. 



X ake but degree away, untune that string. 

And, hark, what discord follows ! each thing meets 

In mere* oppugnancy: The bounded waters 

Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, 

And make a sop of all this solid globe : 

Strength should be lord of imbecility, 

And the rude son should strike his father dead : 

Force should be right ; or, rather, right and wrong, 

(Between whose endless jar justice resides) 

Should lose their names, and so should justice too. 

Then every thing includes itself in power, 

Power into will, will into appetite ; 

And appetite, an universal wolf. 

So doubly seconded with will and power, 

Must make perforce an universal prey, 

And, last, cat up himself. 

* Absolalc. 



TROILTJS AND CRESSIDA. 308 

LOVE IN A BR4VE YOUNG SOLDIER. 




Call here my varlet*, I'll unarm again: 
Why should I war without the walls of Troy, 
That find such cruel battle here within? 
Each Trojan, that is master of his heart, 
Let him to field ; Troilus, alas ! hath none. 
***** 

The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their strength, 
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant; 
But I am weaker than a woman's tear, 
Tamer than sleep, fonder f than ignorance ; 
Less valiant than the virgin in the night, 
And skill-less as unpractis'd infancy. 

***** 

O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,— 
When I do tell thee, There my hopes lie drown'd, 
Reply not in how many fathoms deep 
They lie indrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad 
In Cressid's love : Thou answer'st, She is fair; 
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart 
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice ; 
Handiest in thy discourse, O, that her hand, 

* A servant to a knight. t Weaker. 



364 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

In whose comparison all whites are ink. 
Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seisurc 
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense 
Hard as the palm of ploughmen ! This thou tell'st me, 
As true thou tell'st me, when I say — I love her; 
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, 
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given mc 
The knife that made it. 

SUCCESS NOT EQUAL TO OUR HOPES. 

The ample proposition, that hope makes 
In all designs begun on earth below, 
Fails in the promis'd largeness : checks and disasters 
Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd: 
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, 
Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain 
Tortive and errant* from his course of growth. 

ADVERSITY THE TRIAL OF MAN. 

Why then, you princes, 
Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works ; 
And think them shames, which are, indeed, nought 
But the protractive trials of great Jove, [else 

To find persistive constancy in men? 
The fineness of which metal is not found 
In fortune's love: for, the bold and coward, 
The wise and fool, the artist and unread, 
The hard and soft, seem all affin'df and kin : 
But, in the wind and tempest of her frown, 
Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan, 
Puffing at all, winnow s the light away ; 
And what hath mass, or matter, by itself 
Lies, rich in virtue^ and unmingled. 

ACHILLES DESCRIBED BY ULYSSES. 

The great Achilles, — whom opinion crowns 
The sinew and the forehand of our host, — 
Having his ear full of his airy fame, 

* Twisted and rambling. t Joined by affinity* 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 865 

Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent 

Lies mocking our designs : With him, Patroclus, 

Upon a lazy bed the live-long day 

Breaks scurril jests ; 

And with ridiculous and awkward action 

(Which, slanderer, he imitation calls,) 

He pageants* us. Sometime great Agamemnon, 

Thy toplessf deputation he puts on; 

And, like a strutting player, — whose conceit 

Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich 

To hear the wooden dialogues and sound 

'Twixt his stretch'd footing aud the scaffoldage J, — 

Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested§ seeming 

He acts thy greatness in : and when he speaks, 

'Tis like a chime a mending; with terms unsquar'd||, 

Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd, 

Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff, 

The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling, 

From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause ; 

Cries — Excellent ! — 'tis Agamemnon just. — • 

Now play me Nestor ; — hem. and stroke thy beard, 

As he, being drest to some oration. 

That's done;— as near as the extremest ends 

Of parallels; as like as Vulcan and his wife: 

Yet good Achilles still cries, Excellent / 

y Tis Nestor right ! Now play him me> Patroclus, 

Arming to answer in a night alarm. 

And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age 

Must be the scene of mirth ; to cough, and spit, 

And with a palsy- fumbling on his gorget, 

Shake in and out the rivet:— and at this sport, 

Sir "Valour dies ; cries, O ! — enough, Patroclus, 

Or give me ribs of steel ! I shall split all 

Inpleasure of my spleen. And in this fashion, 

All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, 

Severals and generals of grace exact, 

Achievements, plots, orders, preventions, 

* In modern language, takes us off. t Supreme. 

$ The galleries of the theatre. § Beyond the truth. 

|i Unadapted. 

I I 2 



366 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAI1E. 

Excitements to the field, or speech for truce, 
Success, or loss, what is, or is not, serves 
As stuff for these two to make paradoxes. 

CONDUCT IN WAR SUPERIOR TO ACTION. 

The still and mental parts, — 
That do contrive how many hands shall strike 
When fitness calls them on ; and know, by measure, 
Of their observant toil, the enemics , weight, — 
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity: 
They call this — bed- work, mappery, closet-war: 
So that the ram, that batters down the wall, 
For the great swing and rudeness of his poise, 
They place before his hand that made the engine; 
Or those, that with the fineness of their souls 
By reason guide his execution. 

RESPECT. 

I ask, that I might waken reverence, 
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush 
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes 
The youthful Phoebus. 



ACT II. 

DOUBT. 

The wound of peace is surety, 
Surety secure ; but modest doubt is call'd 
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches 
To the bottom of the worst. 

PLEASURE AND REVENGE. 

For pleasure, and revenge, 
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice 
Of any true decision. 

THE SUBT1LTY OF ULYSSES, AND STUPIDITY OF 'A J AX. 

Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engen- 
dering of toads. 






TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 367 

Nest. And yet he loves himself: Is it not strange ? 

[Aside. 

Ulyss. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. 

Again. What's his excuse? 

Ulyss. He doth rely on none ; 

But carries on the stream of his dispose, 
Without observance or respect of any, 
In will peculiar and in self-admission. 

Agam. Why will he not, upon our fair request, 
Untent his person, and share the air with us 2 

Ulyss. Things small as nothing, for request's sake 
only, 
He makes important : Possess'd he is with greatness ; 
And speaks not to himself, but with a pride 
That quarrels at self-breath : imagin'd worth 
Holds in his blood such swoin and hot discourse, 
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts, 
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages, 
And batters down himself: What should I say? 
He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens of it 
Cry — No recovery. 

Agam. Let Ajax go to him. — 

Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent : 
7 Tis said, he holds you well ; and will be led, 
At yoor request, a little from himself. 

Ulyss. O Agamemnon, let it not be so ! 
We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes 
W'hen they go from Achilles : Shall the proud loul 
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam*, 
And never suffers matter of the world 
Enter his thoughts, — save such as do revolve 
And ruminate himself, — shall he be worshipp'd 
Of that we hold an idol more than he ? 
No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord 
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquired ; 
Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit, 
As amply titled as Achilles is, 
By going to Achilles : 

•Fat. 



368 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

That were to enlard his fat-already pride ; 
And add more coals to Cancer*, when he burns 
With entertaining great Hyperion. 
This lord go to him ! Jupiter forbid ; 
And say in thunder — Achilles, go to him. 

Nest. O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him. 

[Aside. 

Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause! 

[Aside. 

Ajax. If I go to him, with my arm'd list 111 
pash f him 
Over the face. 

Agam. O, no, you shall not go. [pride : 

Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll pheezej his 
Let me go to him. [rel. 

Ulyss. Not for the worth that hangs upon our quar- 

Ajax, A paltry, insolent fellow, 

Nest, How he describes 

Himself! [Aside, 

Ajax, Can he not be sociable ? 

Ulyss, The raven 

Chides blackness. [Aside, 

Ajax, I will let his humours blood. 

Agam. He'll be physician, that should be the pa- 
tient. [Aside. 

Ajax. An all men 
Were o' my mind, 

Ulyss, Wit would be out of fashion. 

[Aside. 

Ajax. He should not bear it so, 
He should eat swords first : Shall pride carry it ? 

Nest. An 'twould, you'd carry half. [Aside. 

Ulyss. He'd have ten shares. 

[Aside. 

Ajax. I'll knead him, I will make him supple : 

* The si#n in the zodiac into which the sun enters Jane 21. 
" And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze." 

Thomson. 
t Strike. | Comb, or carry. 



TROILTJS AND CRESSIDA. 369 

Nest, He's not yet thorough warm: force* him 
with praises : 
Pour in, pour in ; his ambition is dry. [Aside, 

Ulyss, My lord, you feed too much on this dislike. 

[To Agamemnon. 

Nest, O noble general, do not do so. 

Dio, You must prepare to fight without Achilles. 

Ulyss. AVhy, 'tis this naming of him does him harm. 
Here is a man — But 'tis before his face; 
I will be silent. 

Nest, Wherefore should you so? 

He is not emulous f, as Achilles is. 

Ulyss, Know the whole world, he is as valiant. 

Ajax, A whoreson dog, that shall palter* thus with 
I would, he were a Trojan. [us ! 

Nest, What a vice 

Were it in Ajax now 

Ulyss. If he were proud ? 

Dio, Or covetous of praise ? 

Ulyss, Ay, or surly borne ? 

Dio. Or strange, or self-affected ? 

Ulyss, Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet 
composure ; 
Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck : 
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature 
Thrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition : 
But he that disciplined thy arms to fight, 
Let Mars divide eternity in twain, 
And give him half: and, for thy vigour, 
Bull-bearing Milo his addition § yield 
To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, 
Which, like a bourn ||, a pale, a shore, confines 
Thy spacious and dilated parts : Here's Nestor, — 
Instructed by the antiquary times. 
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise ; — 
But pardon, father Nestor, were your days 
As green as Ajax, and your brain so temper'd, 

* Stuff. m + Envious. % Trifle. § Titles, 

|! Stream, rivulet. 



370 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

You should not have the eminence of him, 
But be as Ajax. 

Ajax. Shall I call you father ? 

Nest. Ay, my good son. 

Dio. Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax. 

Ulyss. There is no tarrying here ; the hart Achilles 
Keeps thicket. Please it our great general 
To call together all his state of war ; 
Fresh kings are come to Troy : To-morrow, 
We must with all our main of power stand fast : 
And here's a lord, — come knights from east to west, 
And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best. 

Again. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep : 
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep. 



ACT. III. 



AN EXPECTING LOVER, 

No, Pandarus, I stalk about her door, 
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks 
Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon, 
And give me swift transportance to those fields, 
Where I may wallow in the lily beds 
Proposed for the deserver! O gentle Pandarus, 
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings. 
And fly with me to Cressid! 

***** 
I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. 
The imaginary relish is so sweet 
That it enchants my sense : What will it be, 
When that the waf ry palate tastes indeed 
Love's thrice-reputed nectar? death, I fear me; 
Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine, 
Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness. 
For the capacity of my ruder powers : 
I fear it much ; and I do fear besides, 
That I shall lose distinction in my joys ; 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 37 L 

As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps 
The enemy flying. 

***** 

Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom : 
My heart beats thicker than a fev'rous pulse; 
And all my powers do their bestowing lose, 
Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring 
The eye of majesty. 

CONSTANCY IN LOVE PROTESTED. 

Tro. True swains in love shall, in the world to come, 
Approve their truths by Troilus : when iheir rhymes, 
Full of protest, of oath, and big compare*, 
Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration, — 
As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, 
As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, 
As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre, — 
Yet, after all comparisons of truth, 
As Truth's authentic author to be cited, 
As true as Troilus shall crown upf the verse, 
And sanctify the numbers. 

Ores. Prophet may you be! 

If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, 
When time is old and hath forgot itself, 
When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, 
And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up, 
And mighty states characterless are grated 
To dusty nothing; } r et let memory, 
From false to false, among false maids in love, 
Upbraid my falsehood ! when they have said— as false 
As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth, 
As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf, 
Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son ; 
Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, 
As false as Cressid. 

PRIDE CURES PRIDE. 

Pride hath no other glass 
To show itself, but pride ; for supple knees 
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees. 
* Comparison. t Conclude it. 



372 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

GREATNESS CONTEMPTIBLE WHEN ON THE DECLINE. 

Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune, 
Must fall out with men too: What the declin'd is, 
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others, 
As feel in his own fall : for men, like butterflies, 
Show not their mealy wings, but to the summer; 
And not a man, for being simply man, 
Hath any honour; but honour for those honours 
That are without him, as places, riches, favour, 
Prizes of accident as oft as merit: 
Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, 
The love that lean'd on them as slippery too, 
Do one pluck down another, and together 
Die in the fall. 

HONOUR MUST BE ACTIVE TO PRESERVE ITS LUSTRE. 

Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, 
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, 
A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: 
Those scraps are good deeds past: which are devour'd 
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon 
As done: Perseverance, dear my lord, 
Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang 
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail 
In monumental mockery. Take the instant way ; 
For honour travels in a strait so narrow, 
Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path ; 
For emulation hath a thousand sons, 
That one by one pursue: If you give way, 
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, 
Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by, 
And leave you hindmost; — 
Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank, 
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, 
O'er-run and trampled on: Then what they do in 

present, 
Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours : 
For time is like a fashionable host, 
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand ; 



TROILOS AlsD CRESSIDA. 373 

And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly, 

Grasps-in the comer: Welcome ever smiles, 

And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek 

Remuneration for the thing it was ; 

For beauty, wit, 

High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, 

Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all 

To envious and calumniating time. 

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, — 

That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds*, 

Though they are made and moulded of things past; 

And give to dust, that is a little gilt, 

More laud than gilt oer-dusted. 

The present eye praises the present object. 

LOVE SHOOK OFF BY A SOLDIER. 

Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid 
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, 
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, 
Be shook to air. 

THERSITES MIMICKING AJAX. 

Titer. A wonder! 

Achil What? 

Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for 
himself. 

Achil. How so? 

Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hec- 
tor; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical 
cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing. 

Achil. How can that be? 

Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, 
a stride, and a stand: ruminates, like an hostess, 
that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down 
her reckoning : bites his lip with a politic regard, as 
who should say—there were wit in this head, an 
'twould out; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in 
him as fire in a Hint, which will not show without 

* New-fashioii'd toys. 
K K 



374 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

knocking. The man's undone for ever ; for if Hector 
break not his neck i' the combat, he'll break it him- 
self in vain-glory. He knows not me : I said, Good- 
morrow, Ajax ; and he replies, Thanks, Agamemnon. 
What think you of this man, that takes me for the 
general? He is grown a very land-fish, languageless, 
a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear 
it on both sides, like a leather-jerkin. 

Acltil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, 
Thersites. 

Ther. Who, I? wh}% he'll answer nobody; he 
professes not answering ; speaking is for beggars ; 
he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his 
presence ; let Patroclus make demands to me, you 
shall see the pageant of Ajax. 

Achil. To him, Patroclus: Tell him,— I humbly 
desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous 
Hector to come unarmed to my tent ; and to procure 
safe conduct for his person, of the magnanimous, 
and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-honoured 
captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. 
Do this. 

Patr. Jove bless great Ajax. 

Ther. Humph! 

Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles, 

Ther. Ha! 

Patr. Who most humbly desires you to invite 
Hector to his tent! 

Ther. Humph! 

Patr. And to procure safe conduct from Aga- 
memnon. 

Ther. Agamemnon? 

Patr. Ay, my lord. 

Ther. Ha! 

Patr. What say you to't ? 

Ther. God be wi' you, with all my heart. 

Patr. Your answer, sir. 

Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock 
it will go one way or other ; howsoever, he shall pay 
for me ere he has me. 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 375 

Patr* Your answer, sir. 

Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. 

Achil. Why, but he's not in this tune, is he? 

Ther. No, but he's out o' tune thus. What music 
will be in him when Hector has knocked out his 
brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless 
the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings * 
on. 

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him 
straight. 

Ther. Let me bear another to his horse ; for that's 
the more capable f creature. 

Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd ; 
And I myself see not the bottom of it. 

[Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. 

Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were 
clear again, that I might water an ass at it ! I had 
rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant ig- 
norance. 



ACT IV. 



LOVERS PARTING IN THE MORNING. 

Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day, 
Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribal'df crows, 
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, 
I would not from thee. 

Cres. Night hath been too brief. 

Tro. Beshrew the witch ! with venomous wights 
she stays, 
As tediously as hell ; but flies the grasp of love. 
With wings more momentary swift than thought. 

DIOMEDES'S MANNER OF WALKING. 

Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait ; 
He rises on the toe : that spirit of his 
In aspiration lifts him from the earth. 

* Lute-strings made of cat-gat. t Intelligent. 

% Lewd, noisy. 



370 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 
A lover's farewell. 




Injurious time now, with a robber's haste, 
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how: 
As many farewells as be stars in heaven, 
With distinct breath, and consign'd* kisses to them, 
lie fumbles up into a loose adieu ; 
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss : 
Distasted with the salt of broken f tears. 

TROILUS'S CHARACTER OF THE GRECIAN VOUTHS. 

The Grecian youths are full of quality J ; 
They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature 
And swelling o'er with arts and exercise ; [flowing, 
How novelty may move, and parts with person, 
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy 
(Which I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,) 
Makes me afeard. 

A TRUMPETER. 

Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe: 
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek 
Out-swell the colic of puff 'd Aquilon: 
Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood ; 
Thou blow'st for Hector. 

* Sealed. f Interrupted. J Highly accomplished. 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 3?7 

DESCRIPTION OF CRESSIDA. 

There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip. 
Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out 
At every joint and motive* of her body. 
O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue, 
That give a coasting welcome ere it comes, 
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts 
To every ticklish reader ! set them down 
For sluttish spoils of opportunity, 
And daughters of the game. 

CHARACTER OF TROILUS. 

The youngest son of Priam, a true knight; 
Not yet mature, yet matchless; firm of word; 
Speaking in deeds, and deedlessf in his tongue ; 
Not soon provok'd, nor being provok'd, soon calm'd: 
His heart and hand both open, and both free; 
For what he has, he gives, what thinks, he shows; 
Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty, 
Nor dignifies an impair J thought with breath: 
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous ; 
For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes § 
To tender objects; but he, in heat of action, 
Is more vindicate than jealous love. 

HECTOR IN BATTLE. 

I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft, 
Labouring for destiny, make cruel way, 
Through ranks of Greekish youth: and I have seen 

thee, 
As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, 
Despising many forfeits and subdnements, 
When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' the air, 
Not letting it decline on the declin'd||; 
That I have said to some my standers-by, 
Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life ! 
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath, 

* Motion. t No boaster. % Unsuitable to his character. 
§ Yields, gives way. || Fallen. 

KK2 



378 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee m 7 
Like an Olympian wrestling. 

ACHILLES SURVEYING HECTOR. 

Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body 
Shall I destroy him? whether there, there, or there? 
That I may give the local wound a name ; 
And make distinct the very breach whereout 
Hector's great spirit flew : Answer me, heavens ! 



ACT V. 



RASH VOWS. 

The gods are deaf to hot and peevish* vows, 
They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd 
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice. 

HONOUR MORE DEAR THAN LIFE. 

Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate: 
Life every man holds dear; but the dear man 
Holds honour far more precious-dearf than life, 

PITY TO BE DISCARDED IN WAR. 

For the love of all the gods, 
Let's leave the hermit pity with our mother; 
And when we have our armours buckled on, 
The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords,, 

* Foolish. t Valuable. 



THE END. 



INDEX 

TO THE 

BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



Achilles described by Ulysses 364 

surveying Hector 378 

Actios,, the power of 96 

to be carried on with resolution 186 

Adversity, advantages of 10 

— the trial of man 364 

Advice 3 

- to young women 7 

to a son going on his travels 240 

Affectation in words 52 

Affection, natural, allied to love 88 

Age, old , 24, 246 

. despised 313 

Ages, the seven, a description of. 15 

Allegiance, firm, described 190 

Ambition jealous of a too successful friend 204 

» clothed in specious humility 267 

Ambitious love 3 

Anarchy, the mischiefs of.... 214 

Anger described 186 

external effects of 190 

Antony, Marc, his vices and virtues 200 

his speech to Cleopatra at his return 

with victory ...„ 205 

■ his despondency 206 

his reflections on his faded glory 206 

his address to the corpse of Caesar 270 

~ his speech to the conspirators 270 

— ■ funeral oration of 271 

, his character of Brutus 281 



INDEX. 

Aposiopesis, a fine one 79 

Appearances, false, described 154 

Applause, description of 193 

Ariel, songs of 78,87 

Army, routed, description of one 236 

Arthur, pathetic speeches of, to Hubert 120 

Assignation 60 

Astrology ridiculed 282 

Aufidius, his hatred to Coriolanus .. ... 211 

Authority, abuse of u 34 

the privilege of. 35 

Bargains, punctuality in 137 

Bastardy 282 

Bawd, the practices of one condemned 40 

Beauty , 9,26 

virtuous, the power of. 35 

a scornful and satirical one i...... 69 

petitioning in vain 95 

description of a 331 

Bedlam beggars 284 

Bees, the commonwealth of, described 153 

Benedict the bachelor's recantation.... 68 

Birth, high , 178 

Boaster 113 

Bolingbroke's public entry into London described.... 130 

Boy, description of a beautiful one 88 

Braggart 231 

a cowardly one 8 

Braggarts, talking 71,73 

Bribery, honest 35 

Brutus and Cassius, tent scene between 275 

the parting of 280 

Buckingham, Duke of, his prayer for the king 187 

Caesar, his dislike of Cassius 266 

Caliban, curses of 77, 79 

— — his exultation after having attempted the 

chastity of Miranda 78 

his promises 80 

Calumny 250 

Cassius, his contempt for Ceesar 264 

Ceremony insincere 275 



INDEX. 

Chastity 7, 219 

Cheerfulness 43 

Christmas-time, reverence paid to 237 

Churchman, description of one 195 

Clarence's dream in the tower 178 

Cleopatra, her solicitude on the absence of Antony... 199 

her sailing down the Cydnus described 201 

her infinite power of pleasing 202 

her supposed death, description of 207 

her reflections on the death of Antony 207 

her dream, and description of Antony 208 

her speech on applying the asp 209 

Clown's riddle, the 262 

Cominius, his praise of Coriolanus in the senate 212 

Compassion and clemency superior to revenge 86 

Conduct in war superior to action 366 

Conscience 185 

a struggling 119 

guilty 80 

the death-bed horrors of 167 

a good one described 166 

a murderers account of 180 

Consideration 152 

Consolation under banishment , 127 

Conspiracy, horrors of 117 

dreadful till executed 267 

■ Brutus's apostrophe to 267 

Contemplation, zealous, described 182 

Content, perfect 317 

Contention 142 

Continence before marriage 84 

Cordelia, her speech on the ingratitude of her sisters 292 

Coriolanus, an imaginary description of his warring... 211 

character of ,.... 214 

— — - his abhorrence of flattery 214 

: his detestation of the vulgar 216 

his prayer for his son 218 

Counsel of no weight in misery 72 

Countenance, a guilty one described 165 

Country, an oppressed one 310 

Courage 112 

in youth 9 

Courtezans, Timon's reflections on... 350 



INDEX. 

Court and Country life 226 

Courtier, character of a noble 4 

Courtier, a conceited one 25 

finical description of one by Hotspur 134 

Cowardice 4,125 

— and perjury 116 

Cranmer, archbishop, his prophecy respecting Queen 

Elizabeth 195 

Cressida, description of her 377 

Crown, reflections on a 147 

the transports of a 169 

Cruelty, dissuasions from exercising 268 

• to Insects 361 

Cupid's parentage 21 

Customs, new ones followed 187 

Danger 135, 269 

escape from 88 

■ takes hold of any support 119 

Daybreak 64,73,184 

Death 208,236 

temporal, far better than eternal 37 

terrors of 39 

. most in apprehension 39 

apostrophe to 117 

approach of 124 

arguments against the fear of 269 

Deceit in a fine woman 181 

Deed, a good one compared to a candle 55 

Defamation * 23 

Degree, reflections on 362 

Delay, against . 8 

Delights, violent ones not lasting 337 

Departing diseases, strength of 119 

Dependents not to be too much trusted by great men 187 

Desdemona, her fidelity 327 

Desire of beloved objects heightened by their loss.... 71 

Despair, description of. 123, 361 

Despondency 119 

Determined love 89 

Dew in flowers 64 

Diomedes, his manner of walking 375 

Dirge, a funeral one 235 



INDEX. 

Disguise , ; 89 

Dislike, excuse for unreasonable 8 

Dissimulation 70 

Doubt, description of 366 

Dover cliff, description of 291 

Dreams, reflections on 530 

Drums 124 

Drunkards enchanted by Ariel 85 

Duelling, arguments against 350 

Duty, modest, always acceptable 65 

" doing of it merits no praise 211 

Dying with the person beloved preferable to parting 167 

Edgar, his account of discovering himself to his father 294 

Eloquence and beauty. 31 

England, description of 112 

invincible if unanimous 124 

• pathetically described 127 

apostrophe to 128, 154 

English curiosity, satire on 80 

army described 112 

miserable state of »... 161 

Envy 267 

Evening, a fine one 184 

Evils, the remedy of them generally in ourselves 4 

Expedition, what 184 

Eye?, women's * 29 

Eairy jealousy, and its effects 61 

— bank described 62 

courtesies 63 

Fairies and magic 86 

FalstafT, love letter of 56 

■ hid in a basket 57 

his humorous description of love 58 

his cathechism 141 

Father, authority of one 59 

lamenting his daughter's infamy 70 

fondness of one for his child 98 

the best guest at his son's nuptials 106 

• passion of one on the murder of a favourite 

child 170 

— anger of one 281 



INDEX. 

Father, the curse of one on his child 283 

Faults of others no justification of our own 32 

Favourites compared to honeysuckles 69 

Female friendship 63 

affectation 250 

Females, cautions to young ones 239 

Ferdinand, his swimming ashore described 79 

Ferdinand and Miranda, interesting scene between, 81 — 84 

Filial ingratitude 282 

Flattery, and an evil-minded man 252 

Fleet setting sail, description of 155 

Fool, description of oue, and his moralizing on time... 12 

his liberty of speech 13 

Fool-hardiness 232 

Forgiveness, mutual, the duty of. 33 

Fornication equal to murder ,, 36 

Fortitude, true 299 

Fortune 53 

described 147 

forms our judgments 204 

Fortune-teller, description of a beggarly one 24 

Friend, a forsaken one... 352 

Friends, parting of 48 

Friendship in love 6s 

martial 216 

Friendships, common 217 

Frost , 25 

Fury expels fear 205 

Garden scene in Romeo and Juliet... 331 

Garland for old men 103 

for middle aged men 103 

for young men 104 

Gentleman, an accomplished young one 93 

Ghost, description of oue appearing in a dream.. 102 

Ghosts vanish at the crowing of a cock 237 

Glory described 163 

Gloster, Duke of, his deformity 173 

■ his dissimulation 174 

— Duchess of, her remonstrance to her husband 

when doing penance 165 

Earl of, his farewell to the world 290 

God, goodness of, ever to be remembered 164 



INDEX. 

Gods, justice of the 295 

Gold, reflections on ..146, 552 

power of 224 

effects of So6 

Governor, a severe one 52 

Gratitude in an old servant.. 11 

Gravity, affected 43 

assumed 46 

Greatness subject to censure 40 

— the cares of 180 

« ■ when falling described 192 

— : departing. 206 

contemptible when on the decline 372 

Grief 116, 127 

tokens of 11,5 

real 237 

immoderate, discommended 238 

Griefs, the greater ones destroy the less 144 

Hamlet, his soliloquy on his mother's marriage 238 

his speech on the appearance of his father's 

ghost, and the mischiefs it might tempt 

him to 241 

and the ghost, scene between 242, 245 

— — »- his mad address, described by Ophelia 245 

- his reflections on the player and himself 247 



— his soliloquy on life and death , 249 

his instructions to the players 251 

his reflections on the king .... 254 

conference between him and his mother .... 254 

his irresolution 260 

his reflections on Yorick's scull 262 

Happiness consists in opinion 246 

Hatred, remorseless 166 

Health, a 263 

Hector, description of him in battle 377 

Henry IV. his character of Percy and Prince Henry 133 

- his pathetic address to his son 137 

■ Prince, soliloquy of. 133 

modest defence of himself 139 

• modest challenge of 140 

, his pathetic speech on the death of 

Hotspur Ill 






INDEX. 

Henry, Prince, and bis father, scene between 147 

V. character of, by his father 146 

character of, by the constable of France 155 

perfections of .. 152 

■ — his speech before the battle of Agincourt 162 

VI. on his own lenity 174 

VIII. his character of Queen Katharine 189 

Honour 135 

^— — due to personal virtue only, and not to birth 5 
Honour, a maid's 5 

to be conferred on merit only 48 

and policy 214 

must be active to preserve its lustre 372 

- more dear than life 378 

Hope 37,95, 184 

deceitful 128 

Horror, its outward effects described 190 

Hotspur's impatience for the battle 140 

Hounds 65, 73 

Hunting ... 64 

Husband, a, sung to sleep by his wife 137 

Hypocrisy 44, 123, 248 

-in a governor 40 

Hypocrite, the character of an arch one 42 

Iago, his dispraise of honesty 314 

Jealousy 23, 99 

a woman's, more deadly than poison 23 

definition of 319 

the torture of 319 

Jest and jester 29 

Jester 91 

Jew, malice of the 45 

expostulation of the 45 

his commands to his daughter 47 

his revenge 49 

Imagination, the power of 65 

Imogen, her bedchamber, scene of 222 

in boy's clothes 230 

awaking 232 

brought in as dead 233 

Infant, exposing of one 100, 101 

Infidelity in a friend 97 



INDEX. 

Infirmity, the faults of, pardonable 284 

Ingratitude, a song 14 

of false friends 348 

Ingratitude, miserable shifts of 349 

Inhumanity described , 195 

Inconstancy in man 97 

Innocence 100 

Innocence discovered by the countenance 70 

— youthful 98 

silent, its eloquence 100 

harmless. 231 

Insects, cruelty to 351 

Joy, an usurping substitute compared to it 76 

changed to sorrow 341 

Juliet, resolution of , 341 

her soliloquy on drinking the opiate 342 

Justice . 34 

■ lord chief, his speech to King Henry V. 

whom he had imprisoned 151 

Katharine, Queen, her speech to her husband 188 

her speech to Cardinal Wolsey ... 189 

— on her own merit 189 

compared to a lily 190 

Kent, county of, described , 169 

King, in Hamlet, his despairing soliloquy 253 

Kings, evil purposes of, too servilely executed 122 

misery of 129 

divinity of 260 

Knowledge sometimes hurtful 99 

Labour 229 

Lady, a complete one 113 

Lavinia at her lute 360 

— — — the loss of her tongue described 361 

Lear, on the ingratitude of his daughters 285 

■ his distress in the storm 286 

his exclamations in the tempest 287 

his distraction described 290 

his description of his flatterers........ 291 

and Cordelia, scene between 293 

his speech to Cordelia when taken prisoner 294 

on the death of Cordelia 296 



INDEX. 

Lear, dying 297 

Liberty indulged, the consequence of it a 31 

■ spirit of it 266 

Life chequered , ... 8 

a shepherd's 19 

reflections on the vanity of 37 

recluse, described 59 

demands action 141 

the. vicissitudes of it 191 

loathed 206 

and death, soliloquy on 249 

■ necessaries of it few..... 285 

■ reflections on 314 

Lightness of foot 86 

Lion, a hungry one described 170 

Loquacity 44 

Love 22, 60, 329 

too ambitious 3 

self accusation of, too great 6 

humorous description of it ,. 26 

the power of. 28 

in a grave severe governor 36 

messenger, compared to an April day 48 

- true, ever crossed 59 

in idleness... 62 

true 89, 105 

concealed 90 

unsought 91 

commended and censured 91 

froward and dissembling 92 

compared to an April day 92 

a waxen image 93 

contempt of it punished 93 

increased by attempts to suppress it 94 

compared to a figure on ice 95 

unreturned 97 

cemented by prosperity, but loosened by ad- 

versity 106 

the nobleness of life 200 

sole motive of Othello's marrying 315 

— — heralds of 337 

■ invitation to 359 

in a brave young soldier 363 



INDEX. 

Love, constancy in, protested 371 

shook off by a soldier 373 

Lover, a description of one , 12, 19 

i a successful one, compared to a conqueror ... 51 

his thoughts compared to the inarticulate 

joys of a crowd 51 

speech of one 78 

protestations of one 84 

— — a faithful and constant one 94 

his banishment 95 

description of one in solitude 96 

commendation of one 104 

exclamation of one 318 

his computation of time 322 

an expecting one described 370 

the parting of one 376 

Lovers parting 168, 222 

unsettled humours of 202 

light of foot 337 

impatience of 340 

their reluctance to part 340 

parting in the morning 375 

Loyalty 203 

Macbeth, his temper 297 

■ his irresolution 298 

— ■ his guilty conscience and fears of Banquo 303 

Lady, her soliloquy on the news of Dun- 
can's approach 297 

Lady, walking in her sleep 312 

murdering scene in 299 

Macduff his behaviour on the murder of his wife and 

children 310 

Madness occasioned by poison 124 

Maidens, their prayers effectual 32 

Malcolm, his character of himself. 308 

Malicious men described 195 

Man, description of a merry one 26 

in love, humorous description of 92 

three things in him disliked by females 95 

in tears 123 

a plain blunt one described 283 

reflections on 246, 286 

L L 2 



INDEX. 

Man's pre-eminence 22 

Margaret, Queen, her speech before the battle of 

Tewkesbury 175 

h er execrations on Richard III. 178 

— her exprobation 183 

Marriage described 21, 164 

Mariana and a boy singing 41 

Master taking leave of his servants, 205 

Mediocrity 43 

Melancholy ... 263 

the varities of 20 

the parent of error 280 

Men all frail 32 

wilful , 286 

Mercy 53, 358 

frequently mistaken 33 

- commended in governors 33 

Merit always modest 68 

Messenger, post, described 143 

with ill news 143 

Midnight 252 

Mind, lowliness of the 37 

the, alone valuable 75 

a disordered one 250 

its diseases incurable..... 314 

Mirth and melancholy 43 

Mob 210 

no stability in one ,« 173 

Modesty in youth 8 

Moon 60 

Moonlight 54 

night 55 

Morning, description of 171, 237 

dawn of. 171 

Mother, fondness of one for a beautiful child 116 

ravings of one 118 

grief of one for the loss of her son 118 

Murder of the two young princes in the Tower, de- 
scription of..... 182 

Murderer, countenance of one 119 

Muse, invocation to \Wi 

Music 49, 54, 78, 88 



INDEX. 

Nature, the force of. 228 

and art 103 

Newsbearer 121 

Night, description of 66, 163 

in a camp described 156 

Obedience to princes 193 

Octavia's entrance, what it should have been * 204 

Offences mistaken 285 

Oliver, his description of danger when sleeping 21 

Ophelia, description of her death 261 

her interment 263 

Opportunity to be seized on all occasions of life 280 

Ornament, or appearance, the deceit of. 50 

Othello, his description to the senate of his winning 

the affections of Desdemona 315 

— his first suspicion 318 

his jealousy gaining ground ., 319 

his story of the handkerchief 321 

his distraction 322 

his fondness * 322 

his confirmed jealousy ; , 5 C 23 

H his pathetic upbraidings of Desdemona 324 

i — his love 326 

his irresolution to murder Desdemona 327 

his confusion after the murder , 328 

— his remorse 328 

— his speech before his death 329 

Painting 73 

— — to what compared 347 

Pardon, the sanction of wickedness 31 

despair of 102 

Passion, real, dissembled 20 

-too strong for vows , 85 

arising one described 285 

Pastors, ungracious, satires on 240 

Patience easier taught than practised... 23 

and sorrow 290 

Patriotism %66 

Peace inspires love 67 

— — after a civil war... f 132 

after a siege t>20 



INDEX. 

People, Brutus's speech to the 271 

Percy, Lady, her pathetic speech to her husband 135 

Perfection admits of no addition 121 

Perfection, human, the extent of. 245 

Person, description of a murdered one 166 

Petition, a tender one 14 

Philosophy, a shepherd's IB 

Pity to be discarded in war 378 

Playfellows 9 

Pleasure, the vanity of. 25 

■ and revenge 366 

of doing good 347 

Poetry, the power of, with females 96 

Popular favour, method to gain 215 

Popularity described 125, 212 

Portia, her suitors 47 

her picture 51 

her speech to Brutus 263 

Possession more languid than expectation 47 

Power, vanity of 129 

abuse of 292 

Precepts against ill fortune 217 

Preferment 314 

Presents prevail with women 94 

lightly regarded by real lovers 105 

Pride cures pride 371 

Prodigies 236 

« ridiculed 136 

Calphurnia's address on 269 

Promise and performance, difference between 358 

Prospero's reproof of Ariel 77 

Providence directs our actions 263 

the justice of. 290 

Public entry 130 

Puck, or Robin Goodfellow 60 

Quickly, dame, her account of FalstarT's death 154 

Regicides detestable 99 

Relenting tenderness 219 

Repentance 97 

Reputation 125,318 

Resentment, silent, the deepest 165 



INDEX. 

Resolution 32, fi 

— from a sense of honour.... 38 

firm 208 

-obstinate « 218 

Respect described , 366 

Revenge , a 271, 361 

the Jew's, implacable 51 

the Jew's reasons for 52 

Rhymers, miserable ones ridiculed 137 

Richard III. omens on the birth of. 176 

— his soliloquy on his own deformity 176 

his love for Lady Anne 177 

his praise of his own person 177 

— his hypocrisy 178 

— character of, by his mother 184 

— starting in his dream 185 

his address before the battle 1S6 

his behaviour after an alarum 186 

Richmond, Duke of, his prayer 185 

RiBg, description of one 360 

Rising early the way to eminence ». 203 

Romeo, on his banishment 333 

his description of, and discourse with the apo- 
thecary.. 343 

— his contest with Paris 345 

his last speech over Juliet in the tomb 346 

Rosalind proposing to wear men's clothes 9 

Royalty, miseries of. 160 

inborn °Zoo 

Rumour described 142 

Satire, apology for 13 

Say, Lord, his apology for himself. 169 

Scene of a banquet , 304 

Scene of Lady Macbeth in her sleep 312 

Season, nothing good outof 55 

Seducers, custom of. 7 

Self-accusation of too great love 6 

Self-denial a conquest 25 

Self-interest, powerful effects of 114 

Senses returning 87 

Seven ages, the 15 

Shepherd, character of an honest and simple one 18 



INDEX. 

Shepherd's life, the blessings of one » 172 

Simplicity and duty 65 

rural 106 

Slander 23, 231 

Sleep 69, 268 

sound 41 

apostrophe to 145 

Solicitation, the season of. 219 

Soliloquy in prison 131 

Solitude preferred to a court life 10 

Song 28, 90 

a beautiful one 41 

character of an old one 90 

Sonnet 27 

Sorrow, effects of it .-« 180 

Sorrows rarely single 259 

Speculation more easy than practice 44 

Spirit, a warlike one described , 153 

Spring, a song ." 29 

Stag, reflections on the wounded 10 

Station, a low one the blessings of life 188 

Statue described 107 

Steward, a faithful one 348 

Stoic philosophers, satire on . 72 

Stories, melancholy ones described 130 

Storm, Ariel's description and management of one.... 76 

Study 25 

Submission to heaven our duty 181 

Success not equal to our hopes 364* 

Sun rising after a dark night..... 129 

Sycophants, flattering ones 283 

Tears 86 

to what compared 361 

Thanks 358 

Thersites mimicking Ajax 373 

Thoughts ineffectual to moderate affliction 126 

ambitious, a simile on 173 

Time 66 

Timon, his execration of the Athenians 351 

■ his speech to Aicibiades 352 

his reflections on the earth , 354 

his discourse with Apemantus 354 



INDEX. 

Timon, his speech to the thieves 356 

his character of an honest steward 357 

Titles, new ones Ill 

Travelling, advantage of 92 

Troilus, character of. 377 

Trust, in man, vanity of 181 

Trumpeter, description of one $76 

Valley, description of a melancholy one 360 

Vanity of life 37 

of human nature "7 85 

of power 129 

1 wishes 201 

Vicious persons infatuated by heaven ... 205 

Victory by the French, description of..... 113 

English 113 

Villain to be noted 73 

his look and ready zeal 122 

Violets 131 

Virtue given to be exerted 31 

and goodness 40 

Ulysses, the subtilty of him, and stupidity of Ajax.... S66 

Unkindness described. 285 

Volumnia's resolution on the pride of Coriolanus 215 

pathetic speech to her son Coriolanus 219 

Vows, rash ones, condemned 378 

Vulgar, fickleness of the 144 

War, prognostics of 128 

miseries of 163 

Warrior, a gallant one 139 

Warwick, Earl of, his dying speech 175 

Wedding, a mad one described 74 

Widow compared to a turtle 107 

Wife, duty of one to her husband.. 75 

— song of one to her husband 137 

description of a good one 188 

the baseness of falsehood to a 221 

* impatienee of one to meet her husband 225 

innocency of one .v 231 

Winter, a song 7. 30 

Wisdom superior to fortune 204 

Witches described , 297 



INDEX. 

Witches, power of 508 

Wolsey, Cardinal, his speech to Cromwell .* 192 

. an account of his death 195 

hi s vices and virtues described 194 

Woman, her tongue 74 

should be youngest in love 89 

her fears 115 

resolved and ambitious 164 

■ — in man's apparel , 229 

Women, frailty of. ST 

. want greatly prevails on them 204 

satire on 224 

Wonder, proceeding from sudden joy 107 

World, its true value 46 

Worldliness.. 42 

Wreck, a clown's description of one ....... 101 

Wrong and insolence described 358 

York, Duke of, his death described 162 

■ — ~- his character of his sons 170 

7 in battle, description of him 171 

York, Duchess of, her lamentation on the misfor- 
tunes of lier family 181 

Young women, advice to them..... 7 

Youth, courage and modesty in them 9 

the boasting of. 52 

Youths, Grecian, described by Troilus 376 



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